


I Won’t Go Down (By Myself)

by I_Fear_I_Fell



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Discussions of my chemical romance, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Injury, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Swearing, fantasy setting but not au, no on screen suicide attempts! its all just referenced, not as dark as those tags might seem, so much romantic tension omfg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24095869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Fear_I_Fell/pseuds/I_Fear_I_Fell
Summary: After "Accepting Anxiety," Virgil and Roman are pushed into spending some "bonding time" together in the Imagination. What was supposed to be a relaxing way to get to know each other better spirals out of control when they are trapped within the Imagination, injured and chased by a mysterious figure. Now they only have one chance of escape... but with the boundaries in their way, can they make it?...“Roman, seriously, there’s something wrong,” Virgil urged, pure fear leaking into his voice.“Yeah, there’s something wrong,” Roman griped, stressed. “You keeptalkingwhile I’m trying to get us out of here. Can youpleasejust—”Virgil gasped as the shadow coalesced into a shape, a figure; blurring into movement, they barreled towards the two of them nearly faster than he could track. Their dark cloak obscured their face and movement as they launched toward them, light catching on a glint of steel in their hand, headed straight for Roman.Virgil was flooded with a cold rush of terror; before he knew what he was doing he was wrenching Roman aside by his arm and behind himself, screaming, “Watch out!”
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders
Comments: 18
Kudos: 128





	1. But I'll Go Down With My Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmk if there's any triggers you want tagged! They're in the story description but I'll give chapter-specific ones here.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: mild swearing, blood/gore, description of injury
> 
> Enjoy!

Patton had finally put his foot down. 

Thomas had been having a lot of nightmares lately. There was no clear source, the only significant event having occurred recently being the second “Accepting Anxiety” video. It was causing a rise of tension in the Mindscape, every side more and more on edge with a clear problem lacking a solution or cause. 

While Virgil had only been officially “accepted” into the group a couple of weeks ago, Patton, sensing another potential split between Virgil and Roman, had mandated that the two of them spend some “relaxing bonding time” in the Imagination together. Roman had insisted that there was no reason for him to be upset with Virgil, or vice-versa (“I don’t even control dreams and nightmares! That’s Sleep’s department. I passed it off years ago. He insisted that he was getting bored with nothing to do in the Subconscious. I would be talking to him, not to _you_.”). 

Patton had argued that being better friends could never be a bad thing, and had given them a strict directive of “play nice” and shoved them out for some “quality time”. 

Needless to say, it had quickly gone to shit. 

Initially, Roman had seemed irked at being forced to do anything, but nevertheless a little excited at the opportunity to show Virgil around the Imagination. He’d been sucking down his usual snappish remarks and had even taken the liberty of conjuring them some more fitting fantasy wear, though Virgil had stubbornly insisted on keeping his hoodie. But somehow, within the first half hour of Virgil’s grand tour of the Kingdom, the two of them had gotten completely lost. Both of their attitudes soured after that. 

Well, Virgil insisted they were lost. Roman was having a little more trouble accepting it. 

“Lost?!” Roman sputtered, hackles raising. “We’re not- we’re not lost! We just seem to have gotten a little turned around, uh, somewhere—“ 

“Yeah, that’s called getting lost, Princey,” Virgil hissed, crossing his arms and sinking into his hoodie. “Fantastic. Can’t even navigate your own realm right. It hasn’t even been 30 minutes yet, how could we be out of familiar territory?” 

“Uh!” Roman gasped dramatically, hand laid against his chest in offense. “That is not what is happening here, Talking Back Sunday! No need to fret, I know exactly where we are.”

“Oh yeah? Then where are we?” Virgil sneered, shoving his sweaty hands in his pockets to hide his nerves. The two of them had somehow gotten stuck on a long dirt road bordering a forest, no clear signs of civilization anywhere in sight. The sun, high in the perfectly clear sky, was beating down on him and honestly making the hoodie pretty uncomfortable. 

“South! Definitely south of the nearest village. If we were walking this direction from there then we should have been… well that isn’t quite… hm. Well. It should be this way!” He decided, pointing back in the direction from where they came. “Impossible to miss it. Huge kingdom, big old fancy door.” 

Virgil shrugged. “Lead on then.” Roman huffed. 

They walked for another fifteen minutes in tense almost-silence, punctuated occasionally by Virgil’s sarcastic commentary until Roman finally snapped. 

“Do you just enjoy making a fool out of me?!” he snarled, turning his glare on Virgil. 

Virgil looked at him in disbelief. “ _Excuse_ me? Who’s making a fool out of who? If you haven’t noticed, I’ve also been walking with you for the past half hour.” 

“What did you do, you scoundrel!?” Roman rounded on him, ignoring his statement. He stepped into Virgil’s personal space, pointing an accusing finger at the shorter side. “Do away with your foul magic at once!” 

“What did I do?” Virgil said incredulously, hunching his shoulders into his black hoodie. “I didn’t do anything, what the hell? Newsflash, this is your realm, not mine!” 

Roman ran a harsh hand through his hair in frustration, pulling back to pace the narrow dirt path, small plumes of dust rising up from the dry earth. Virgil observed him warily, hands still deep in his hoodie pockets. “Well it’s not me, so it has to be you! Who else would have altered the Imagination to trap us here?!” Roman half-shouted, frustrated. 

The question hung in the air, and they both paled. “You don’t think—” 

“Remus,” Virgil growled. “Of course they would do something after I left. And also to…” he snuck a glance at Roman, who was now imperiously refusing to look at him. Well. If Remus wanted to hurt anyone other than Virgil, it would probably be… 

“I should have known this was his doing,” Roman snarled, hands balling into fists. “He has enough reasons to…” The sudden self-loathing was stronger than Virgil had anticipated. He glanced down and back up again, feeling invasive. 

Virgil fumbled, sensing he should say something. “Are you… like… good?” 

Roman sniffed, raising his chin even more. “Of course I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

Well, attempt at comfort failed. He wasn’t gonna press Roman to spill his deep dark feelings if he didn’t want to. This was awkward enough already. 

“I mean, we don’t really know who or what’s doing it until we get some sort of evidence, so…” he trailed off. Roman shrugged listlessly. 

Yeah. Subject change time. “Okay, so how do we get out, then?” Virgil asked. 

“I… we can try raising ourselves out again. Maybe if I just try hard enough, I can break through,” Roman decided, balling his hands into fists. 

“Err… I’m not so good at the raising up stuff, but I’ll try,” Virgil said awkwardly. It made him lightheaded on a good day; he could barely manage it when he wasn’t being impeded by a side in his own realm, so he wasn’t very confident in his abilities now. 

Roman dragged his hands down his face, clearly exasperated. “You’re never easy, are you. Fine, I’ll do it for the both of us,” he griped. “Grab my arm.” 

“W-what?” 

Roman rolled his eyes, looking like he was in physical pain. “Grab hold of my arm, you dolt, it’ll make it easier. I’ll just pull us both up as one slightly larger unit instead of two separate ones. You won’t have to do anything. Simple.”

Virgil gave him a dour look but acquiesced. Holding Roman gingerly by the elbow, he felt a little like a highschooler at their first dance attempting the waltz. Or, like, a rich couple in the Victorian era, especially considering their unusually ceremonious wear. Both comparisons were equally stiff and formal. 

_Why is my brain jumping to only romantic comparisons,_ he groaned internally. _Just-- don’t think about it._

But it was hard _not_ to think about it, because nothing seemed to be happening. Virgil dared to look up at Roman’s face. The tension clear on his usually prideful face was disconcerting, and Virgil’s growing anxiety was impossible to deny now. Roman took a deep breath, releasing it heavily through his nose, expression screwed up in frustration. 

“So, can we like _go,_ or?” Virgil asked hesitantly. “Or can you not…” 

Roman cracked one of his eyes open to glower down at him. “I can do it! Just give it a second!” 

“I mean, I have been giving it a second--”

“Just put a lid on it, All-American Reject,” Roman snapped. He had clearly been trying to hold back his temper at the beginning of this venture with the new and strange territory their relationship had entered recently, but his anger had taken him past the point of civility.

Virgil did the smart thing and decided to follow Roman’s advice for once and shut up. 

Roman went back to squeezing his eyes shut, focusing, grumbling under his breath. Virgil took to anxiously scanning their surroundings, nervously adjusting his grip on Roman’s arm. 

Was it just his imagination, or did the treeline look darker now than it had a minute ago? The path was raised, a steep slope leading down to the forest below, and he peered down, squinting. Maybe the sun had just shifted, casting more shadow beneath them. It was hard to see with the harsh sun beating down on him, making things overly-bright and the distance hazy. 

Next to him, he could see Roman’s expression starting to crack and grow more upset. Virgil chewed on his lip anxiously. He didn’t think this was working. 

He glanced back at the treeline. Yeah, it was definitely growing darker. There was a… something. A shadow, a dark spot, lurking just off the path. 

“Roman,” he said anxiously, grip tightening on his arm. “There’s something-”

“Stop distracting me, for _once!_ ” Virgil could see beads of sweat forming on Roman’s brow. The amount of power he was exerting to try and escape was obviously taking it out of him. They needed to get out of here, now. 

“Roman, seriously, there’s something wrong,” Virgil urged, pure fear leaking into his voice. 

“Yeah, there’s something wrong,” Roman griped, stressed. “You keep _talking_ while I’m trying to get us out of here. Can you _please_ just—” 

Virgil gasped as the shadow coalesced into a shape, a figure; blurring into movement, they barreled towards the two of them nearly faster than he could track. Their dark cloak obscured their face and movement as they launched toward them, light catching on a glint of steel in their hand, headed straight for Roman. 

Virgil was flooded with a cold rush of terror; before he knew what he was doing he was wrenching Roman aside by his arm and behind himself, screaming, “ _Watch out!_ ” 

Roman’s eyes flew open in shock, disoriented. The figure slashed widely with their blade right where he would have been, catching Virgil across the forearm. He released a small cry of pain, staggering back in surprise. 

Roman had been taken off guard, but his reflexes were fast; he drew his blade in one swift movement, stepping in front of Virgil this time to stab at their attacker. They parried smoothly, steel sliding across steel, disengaging their weapons with a flick of their wrist. Roman, not to be outdone, cleanly blocked their next strike, blades clashing. But when the figure leaned into their strike, Roman was forced to lean back, arms trembling a little from the strain of holding the blade away from his body. 

“Virgil, you need to run,” Roman grit out. The figure spun, black cloak swirling as they pivoted away. Roman lunged forward, blade almost connecting but glancing off at the last second as they evaded. 

“I can’t just leave-” 

“I said go! You’ll just distract-” Roman made a little choked-off sound as they drew back their sword and slammed it harshly into his skull with an audible crack! He lurched back with a gasp, stunned, and the figure rushed forward--

And Virgil was there, driving an elbow into their sternum, the breath leaving their chest in a _whoosh_. He only had a brief moment of victory before hot, searing pain exploded across his left shoulder as their attacker sliced him from above. He choked on a scream, body hitting the ground in a daze, smashing his lip against the dirt. His mind whited out with agony as he felt them stomp down on his injured shoulder violently, grinding their heel into the wound. 

Roman shouted in outrage above him and Virgil looked up just in time to see him kick the figure right in the center of the chest where Virgil had struck them before. 

Then Virgil saw it. He caught a glimpse of the bottom part of their face-- watched a characteristic sneer turn into an open-mouthed look of surprise. 

They ( _he, it_ had _to be him_ ) teetered, toppling back— then their foot caught on the edge of the road and they were falling, rolling roughly down the hill. Their limp body crashed to a stop at the base of the slope, laying still. 

Virgil pushed himself shakily to his feet, clutching his throbbing shoulder. He stared down at the motionless body, uncertain. His hands trembled, caught between pulling back and reaching out. 

“Should we-“ 

“We need to go. Now. Are you hurt? Can you move?” Roman said, clipped. 

“I— yes. I can move,” Virgil stuttered, pointedly ignoring the pain blooming from his arm. Also the faint dripping sensation he we definitely _not_ feeling on his shoulder. 

Roman nodded, face set seriously. “Let’s go.” 

They headed quickly down the path, Virgil scrambling to keep up with Roman’s long strides. He sheathed his sword, but only halfway, hand kept hovering near the hilt. 

They walked quickly for a couple minutes, Roman a step in front of Virgil. He was walking with an almost panicked speed and Virgil was having trouble keeping up. He wouldn’t usually have minded, but he was cradling his injured right arm with the slash on it with his injured left arm where his shoulder had been sliced. It made his steps awkward and he stumbled on a dip in the road, saving himself from tripping at the last second, letting out a little “shit” under his breath. 

“Did you say something?” Roman asked, turning. Then he stopped, staring at Virgil in open shock. “Sweet mother of sword fights, are you alright? Were you injured? I saw them stomp on you, but I didn’t realize-” 

“I’m just peachy, Princey,” Virgil said through grit teeth, still cradling his arm. Now that he’d drawn attention to it, he could feel the shoulder of his hoodie becoming sticky against his skin and he really didn’t want to think about that right now. He didn’t see any blood when he glanced at it before, but it could have been due to his black clothes. The joint itself was also throbbing fiercely, overly-warm and probably bruised. 

Roman scowled, pointing an accusatory finger. “No! You are not peachy! Not at all! More like a nasty _peach_ of work! Or should I say not in one peach.” 

“Enough with the wordplay,” Virgil groaned, continuing to walk. “Can we just keep going and get out of here already?” 

“No,” Roman said, considering. “No, we can’t keep going this way.”

Virgil paled, stomach dropping. “Excuse me? What are you saying, that we give up? You don’t think we can make it?” 

“No, not at all!” Roman said hurriedly. “I just mean that we should get off the road before our anonymous adversary catches up.” 

“What?!” Virgil physically stopped in place, gaping at Roman. “Why? Are we really trying to go further into unfamiliar territory, not to mention unfamiliar territory so… dark and spooky?” 

“I thought dark and spooky was ‘your thing’,” Roman half-joked. It fell flat. “Okay, fine. In all honesty, I don’t think whatever that thing was is going to be stopped for very long. It’ll be coming for us soon enough, and when it does, we don’t want to be out in the open. Also…” he turned to look at the treeline, pointing out to the horizon. “You see that?”

Virgil squinted in that direction. There was something there. Atop the dark shapes of the trees, he could see the vague shapes of towers and buildings in the distance. 

“That’s where we’re trying to go. The kingdom of Arylo. This road runs parallel to it, avoiding the forest. In any other situation, with more time, it would be better to take this higher, safer route. But with someone in pursuit… not as good an idea. That kingdom is where the door is, in case there’s ever an emergency and I can’t just sink out on my own. Re-- or… _whoever_ it is doing this-- may be able to change some of the nature of the landscape and the creatures that inhabit this land, but not the inherent features of the Imagination. If we can make it there, we can make it out,” he said decisively, features set. He looked so certain in that moment that Virgil halfway found himself believing that it could be that easy. 

“I… okay.” 

Roman checked their surroundings once more before stepping to the edge of the path, carefully moving down the slope. Dirt and gravel scattered as he stepped gingerly down, coating his boots in a layer of dust. He turned after a couple of steps, looking back at Virgil. Virgil was confused as to why until he realized Roman was giving his injuries a meaningful look. 

“I’m not going to collapse, Princey,” he snapped, flushing. “I can walk down a hill just fine.” 

“Maybe not collapsing, but this would be a bad place to trip. I’ll just hold your shoulder to keep you stable while you walk down,” Roman assured him, looking a little embarrassed himself. 

Virgil let him, stepping carefully down the slope with Roman’s warm hand on his shoulder. It was… odd. His hold was firm, a solid weight, while not being too heavy. He was hyper-aware of the feeling of Roman’s fingers curled around his shoulder, and when they reached the bottom and Roman pulled away, only a phantom-weight and a strange tingling sensation were left. 

When Virgil peeked up to look at Roman, he was studying him with a frown twisting his lips. 

“What, do I have something on my face?” he said defensively, wrapping his arms around himself. 

“Actually you do have a little dirt— not the point, Roman. What I meant to say is, we need to look at that cut as soon as we can. Even little nicks can be bad if you don’t take care of them right! Logan taught me that. They can go antiseptic, or something.” 

“You mean septic,” Virgil responded absently. He shifted his weight, twisting his hands in the fabric of his hoodie. “Like you said, it’s just a little nick. Shouldn’t we keep going?”

“We can’t keep going until we thoroughly check that you’re not going to faint on me, Corpse Bride.”

Virgil groaned, relenting. “Fine.” 

They walked a little into the forest, stopping at a little clear spot once they’d walked far away enough from the path not to be visible from the edge of the trees. Virgil plopped down on a log with a sigh, sending a little jolt of pain through his arm. He glowered as Roman took a knee before him, studiously avoiding his gaze. Now that he wasn’t walking, he could feel it even more acutely; the top of his shoulder and shoulder blade radiating pain across his left side. 

Roman sighed in exasperation, rolling his eyes. “You actually have to take the hoodie _off,_ you know.” 

Virgil scowled wordlessly, reaching to pull it off with a rough motion, heedless of his injuries. As soon as he tugged on the sleeve of his left arm, he _felt_ half-healing skin rub and tear against the shifting fabric and he jolted forward, stifling a noise of pain. Tears sprang to his eyes and he squeezed them shut, clenching his jaw. _Bad idea._

“Geez, Dark and Stormy Knight, is it that bad?” Roman asked in concern. 

“It’s fine,” Virgil snapped, pushing aside the foreboding in his gut. “It just… might be a little easier for you to take my hoodie off.” 

Roman obliged, silent for once as he gently reached up. He took an opposite approach to Virgil; he reached for the collar of the hoodie first. Virgil blamed any sudden dizziness he was feeling on the blood loss, still refusing all eye contact. 

Softly, Roman lifted and rolled the fabric down Virgil’s shoulder, wary of aggravating any wound. He hissed as the blood-smeared skin was exposed to air for the first time, wincing sympathetically. He worked the sleeves down his arms, holding the fabric away from his skin so it didn’t drag across it. 

Along with that, he had to then pull the neck of Virgil’s shirt away from him as well, trying to work the sleeve down his arm. Though he’d left the hoodie intact, he’d changed Virgil’s regular t-shirt into an elegant charcoal poet’s shirt, complete with puffy sleeves and a collar that laced together over high-waisted pants. He soon seemed to realize that he wasn’t going to be able to reach the injury through the shirt and paused, for once looking a little sheepish. 

“Can I-” 

Virgil was already completely pink. “Just do it, Princey, don’t make this last any longer than it has to.” 

Roman nodded wordlessly, ducking his head; Virgil staring anywhere but his face as he felt Roman silently unlace his shirt, guiding the material off of his arms. 

Once he’d removed the shirt fully from Virgil’s frame, Roman paused for a moment as he really looked at Virgil’s shoulder, shocked. Virgil frowned at the expression. 

“What the hell! You didn’t say you’d been _stabbed!_ ” Roman half-shouted, lurching up to sit next to him on the log. He reached out for Virgil’s left arm, once hand going to cradle his elbow and the other hovering over his shoulder. 

“Come on, stabbed? There’s no way it looks that bad,” Virgil rolled his eyes, turning his head to assess the damage. He gasped, paling. “Oh. Well. Maybe I _was_ stabbed.”

The wound started on the top of his shoulder, curling over his shoulder onto his back. The deepest part of it was on the top of his shoulder, where the blade had been closest, but the incision itself dragged down his shoulder blade at least six inches, tapering into a light scratch. It was just a little hard to see because of the blood stubbornly oozing from the wound, streaking down all over his arm and shoulder blade. Despite the gore, it was still easy to see where the skin had parted under the blade, open wound glaring up at him. It was pretty gross, in all honesty. 

Beyond that, though, there was some nasty bruising on his shoulder as well as swelling. Virgil wasn’t sure what that meant, but it couldn’t be anything good. Had that person fractured or torn something when he stomped on Virgil’s arm? It looked like it. 

“We need to put some pressure on this,” Roman said worriedly. “I didn’t want to use this too much, but…” he closed his eyes, clearly focusing. Virgil watched with bated breath as he breathed in, out, jaw set… and then gauze and bandages appeared in his hands. Roman let out a gust of air, opening tired eyes. 

“That didn’t look as easy as normal,” Virgil commented. “Sure I shouldn’t be worrying about you keeling over, instead?” 

“Oh, you wish,” Roman retorted. “It’s just like I said. It’s like there’s something blocking my influence right now. It’s strange, not like anything I’ve felt before. I didn’t think any side was capable of dampening another’s powers like this, especially in their own realm. And I’m just a little… tired. From trying to sink out before. But it’s fine.” 

Virgil made a face. That laundry list of issues didn’t really sound ‘fine’, but if Roman wanted to say so he wasn’t gonna stop him. His thoughts were cut off as Roman took the gauze and pressed it directly onto the wound without warning. Pain lanced up and down his arm, white-hot, and spots danced in his vision. 

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, pressing his lips together in an attempt not to cry out. His whole body felt hot and cold at the same time, clammy and sweating bullets; all he could focus on was the sharp, immediate pain flaring through his shoulder. 

“Shit,” he swore. “Just— shit.” 

Roman reached one hand out to cup his jaw, as if to tilt Virgil’s face in his direction, before quickly withdrawing it as he seemed to realize what he was doing. 

“You okay?” he asked softly, not easing up on the pressure. 

“I’m fine,” Virgil gritted out. “It just _hurts._ ” 

Roman gave him a crooked smile, not quite disguising the stress lining his face. “Yeah, stab wounds are nothing to play with. I should know, the Dragon Witch and I have gotten into enough scuffles for me to find that one out the hard way.”

Virgil let out a shaky laugh, shaking fingers gripping onto the bark below him for dear life. “Man, you should’ve given me a heads up, Princey! Maybe I wouldn’t have decided to go and get myself stabbed if I knew it sucked so bad.” 

“Why did you do that?” Roman asked seriously, catching him off guard. “Jump into the fight like that. I told you to run.” 

Virgil looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not sure. Instinct took over. Fight or flight, you know,” he half-joked. 

Roman looked like he wanted to say something but decided against it, nodding. 

“Any theories on what happened before? Does this kind of thing happen often in the Imagination?” Virgil redirected. “Seems pretty dangerous.” 

“No,” Roman shook his head. “There was something different about them. That person who attacked us earlier.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Well, everything in the Imagination— my part of it, at least— is created by me. And everything follows certain rules. I can be harmed, but creatures follow my skill level and are within my capabilities to defeat. Whoever that was... wasn’t following any of the rules. I put up a good effort, but... they were toying with me,” he said bitterly, hands stilling on the bandages. “And that’s what’s really unnerving. They were besting me. They _hurt_ you, quite badly, and I couldn’t stop them. I don’t think we can afford to let them catch us again. I don’t know how far they’re willing to go.” 

Roman seemed to catch his mounting panic and backtracked, saying, “But I’m sure we’ll be fine! I know the Imagination best after all, and won’t be taken off guard again. I can protect us should they come back, no need to worry! They’re simply a construct, after all, if a strong one.” 

Virgil’s pulse was racing in his ears, hardly listening. This was bad. He wasn’t so sure about them being a simple construct. 

If they couldn’t escape... they could seriously die. Was _he_ really willing to kill them? The betrayal bloomed bitter on his tongue. He knew he had to say something. 

Haltingly, he rasped, “Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“I saw a little bit of his face earlier. Under his hood, when I was knocked to the floor. And I think... I think it was Remus.” 

Roman paled, face stricken. His hands fell slack on Virgil’s shoulder, vacant eyes fixed on nothing. 

“Remus?” He asked hoarsely. “Then he was really... the one who did this? I never actually imagined...” 

“Yeah,” Virgil said solemnly. “I only saw his mouth and chin, but it had to have been a side, at least. But he had the same smirk, and I thought he had a mustache…” 

Roman cut him off with a hand. “I trust you, I don’t need to hear any more. It’s just startling, to say the least, to hear it confirmed.” 

Virgil leaned forward toward Roman. “I would get being confused, though. _I’m_ confused. It had to be Remus, yeah, I saw him, but he wasn't really acting like himself. He was way too quiet, for one. He didn’t have any of his usual flair at all! It’s weird.” 

“He does have a taste for the dramatic. It’s quite uncharacteristic,” Roman mused. “I would have expected a song, or a monologue at least before he went in for the attack.” His eyes were a little more focused, now, coming out of his fugue state. Virgil was almost thankful for it but his regained focus meant he was pressing back on the wound, harder than before this time. 

Virgil chewed on his thumbnail consideringly, blocking out the pain to focus. “There has to be a reason for it. I know Remus, that’s not how he works. There must be something… or someone.” 

“Deceit,” Roman agreed, meeting Virgil’s eyes. “There can’t be anyone else.” 

Virgil slumped forward, head drooping, elbows pressing against his knees. “Yeah.” 

Roman seemed to sense his change in tone, tilting his head quizzically. 

“Weren’t you all... friends, before you came to ‘our side’, so to speak?” he asked gingerly. 

Virgil’s face fell, shoulders hunching even more. “Not just friends,” he mumbled. “More like… family.” 

“Virgil, I’m… I’m sorry,” Roman said, scooting a little closer. “I can’t even picture…” 

“It’s fine.” 

Roman raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. Virgil had almost fully curled up at this point, and Roman navigated cleaning and bandaging his wounds in silence. As well as wrapping them firmly in gauze, he also created a makeshift sling for Virgil’s left arm to rest in so it wouldn’t be aggravated as they walked. 

As soon as he was done, clothes shrugged back on, Virgil stood, taking a couple quick steps away from him. Even a couple feet seemed a wide, yawning distance after being in close proximity for so long. 

“We should go,” he said.

Roman nodded, an odd tilt to his expression. “Quite right.” 

They pressed on. 

The sun was dropping in the sky soon enough, the bright jewel tones of day bleeding into the golden light of sunset. Virgil wasn’t sure if it had just been that long or if the night was being artificially brought on somehow. Either way it was falling fast. The shadows of the trees lengthened and he chewed anxiously on the inside of his cheek, eyes darting around as they made their way through the forest. 

He could hear the sound of rushing water growing steadily louder and he turned to Roman as they walked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“You hear that?”

He nodded grimly. “Yeah. I was hoping we wouldn’t come upon the river. With some hope we’ll be able to pass by without crossing.” 

There were not. They soon came to the bank of a wide, rushing river. There was no bridge in sight. It looked too fast and too deep to walk through— especially considering Virgil’s injuries— but also far too wide to jump or be lifted over. Virgil eyed the frothy, rapid water warily. 

“I’m assuming things can’t just be easy and that there’s not a bridge?” He asked drily, still cradling his hurt arm. The sling did seem to be helping keep it in place, but he would’ve stabbed someone for some painkillers right about then. 

“I doubt there was one this deep in the forest before, but even if there was… I don’t think Remus would have left it. I could have sworn this river didn’t curve this way before… things are acting strangely in the Imagination right now. Whatever dream logic Remus is using isn’t going to make things easy on us.” 

“Then what do we do?” 

Princey deliberated for a long moment, eyes scanning their surroundings. He pointed. “That.” 

There was a felled tree, uprooted from the base as if in a previous storm. It was only barely large enough to fit a person, not even two feet across. It was, however, the only thing spanning the river in sight. 

“You have got to be kidding me, Princey,” Virgil groaned. “You think I can cross that? It doesn’t look remotely safe.” 

“It is certainly not ideal,” Roman allowed. “But it may be our only option. If you really don’t think you can cross, we can look for another way. I don’t want to try and cross only to have you fall in.”

“I can do it,” Virgil retorted, disgruntled. He was expressing healthy concern for the both of them, okay? He was just as capable of walking across a tree as Roman was. “Whatever. Let’s just do it.”

“You go first. I’ll watch you go over, hold it still on this end,” Roman said, stepping aside to let Virgil walk up to the tree first. 

“Wow, I guess chivalry really isn’t dead,” he snorted. He didn’t look, but he just knew Roman was making a face behind him. 

When he got closer to the actual tree, though, a little of his aloof attitude drained away. He held by his point, it didn’t look especially safe. It had clearly been there for a while, the wood old and slightly soft to the touch. The riverbank was only elevated a little bit from the water, and the bark was rubbed slightly smooth and was coated in spray from the thrashing waters only a couple of feet below. It definitely wouldn’t take more than one person’s weight, that was for sure. 

Normally, he would’ve crawled across it on both hands and knees just in an effort to not roll off. As it was, he would have to do some awkward crouching/squatting hybrid to get across this thing. 

“If you really can’t, we can just-” 

“Can it, Princey, I got this,” he snapped. Gingerly, he stepped a foot onto the trunk of the tree, lowering his body weight fully onto it before grabbing it with his good hand and swinging another leg on to be fully crouched. 

He gulped. It really was hard to balance like this, one arm tucked into his chest. It threw his weight off. Slowly, he moved one of his legs out from under him. One step at a time. He kept going like that, gradually making his way across. 

“Watch out for the slippery bit,” Roman called unhelpfully. 

“I said I got it,” he growled. In his distraction, he almost missed the trunk with his hand on the next step, jerking a little bit to the side. He froze, whole body tense and thrumming with anxiety, heart rushing almost as loud as the river in his ears. He could feel the spray of the cool water around him, making his hands and feet slick with moisture. 

“How about I just not help for now,” Roman said sheepishly. Virgil barely held back rolling his eyes and continued, trying not to half-run off the tree in his haste to be on solid ground again. Finally, he was off. 

“See that, Roman? I got it,” he gloated, rolling his shoulders back. Across the riverbank, Roman waved a hand dismissively. 

“Just watch how a real professional does it,” he smirked back. “I’ll put you to shame.”

“Let’s see you try to stay on with an injured shoulder,” Virgil grumbled under his breath. 

He had to admit (privately, never out loud) that Roman was better than he was. He seemed to have much more inborn grave and confidence in his steps than Virgil had, maybe from the difference in their functions or just due to his adventuring experience. 

He walked across like it was easy, arms held out a little to his side for balance. He didn’t need to crouch or hold onto the bark, he just bent his knees a little and walked. His smug expression was probably supposed to make Virgil angry, but despite his best intentions he actually found it a little charming. 

Ugh. Charming. 

Then, just when Roman was reaching the center of the tree, the river seemed to rise below him, current almost meeting the bark of the tree. Virgil paled, head whipping around. There, in the distance, he could see it: the river was swelling. It looked like a crashing flood, thundering downstream towards them. 

“Roman!” he accidentally shouted, frantic. 

Roman turned in alarm, eyes widening as he saw it too. In his distraction, he teetered on the narrow bridge, barely keeping his footing. 

“I- It’s okay, you have enough time to get off if you keep going,” Virgil urged, shaky with nerves. It was fine. Roman was going to be fine. 

Roman met his eyes determinedly, taking another step. 

Then an arrow whistled out of the trees and buried itself deep in Roman’s shoulder. He staggered, his whole body spasming as it pierced his skin, soft whine punching itself out of his throat. 

“Roman!” Virgil screamed. Roman turned his head, as if in a trance, body listing dangerously to the side. Virgil’s eyes widened; the arrow had knocked him off center and he didn’t know if Roman could keep his footing on the slippery bark. Roman’s bewildered stare met his own and he could feel tears pricking his eyes. 

“Roman, stay there. I’ll— I’ll—” he was panicking, unsure, stepping to the edge of the bank. “I’ll get you, please just—” 

Roman shifted as if to take another step, reaching forward—

Then another arrow hit his chest with a _thunk_ and he was falling, crashing down into the rushing current. 

“ _Roman! NO!_ ” 

Virgil did the stupid thing. 

He jumped in after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman: fucking kills someone and leave their body in a ditch 
> 
> Virgil: should we like, check on them, or-? 
> 
> Roman: nope. going. we’re leaving. right now. 
> 
> Virgil: I mean if you insist-
> 
> eshfejhfsjfsh sorry for the cliffhanger I couldn't resist. This was actually originally a one-shot, but I mean... look at the word count. It got way too long and I decided to break it up. Most of the rest is actually completed though, so maybe it'll come faster than the rest of my works haha. 
> 
> Also “Talking Back Sunday” is a pun on the band “Taking Back Sunday", I decided to run with the emo band puns in this one. Really excited for the rest of this! I needed some (semi) wholesome Roman/Virgil interaction after that last episode. Have them talk to each other Thomas! Please!! 
> 
> Please comment if you liked it or have any theories you want to share on where this is going! I'm hyped for the rest. Have a great day and stay safe everyone!


	2. if you were here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings at the end note!

Roman awoke with a gasp, shoulder and chest screaming in pain. Gulping for air, he tried to get his grips through the searing agony lighting his every nerve on fire. He was coughing, too, the acrid taste of bile and river water on his tongue and he realized he was drenched. Hazy mind slowly being dragged into awareness, he soon realized he was half-submerged on a riverbank, water tugging at his prone body. Rocks were digging uncomfortably into his back and he was streaked in mud and blood. 

He tried to move, twitch an arm to grab for his sword, but piercing pain flared from his shoulder and he fell limp with a gasp. His chest jerked, a half-aborted, pained motion. He coughed, harsh and rattling, and it felt like something was tearing. He could barely turn his neck to see the red soaking the shoulder of his outfit. 

He groaned, pained tears gathering in his eyes. He needed to get up, to find Virgil, but he didn’t think he could stand at all. 

“H-hello?” he whispered hoarsely. The sound rang out, stark in the silence around him.  
It was dark— much darker than before. Had that much time passed? Or was this some form of unnatural night? He wasn’t sure. His vision was swimming and he blinked water harshly out of his eyes. Despite himself, cold fear had stolen into his lungs and made residence there, and it was freezing him in place as surely as his wounds. 

Self-loathing and frustration warred inside of him and he bared his teeth in a snarl, slamming a frustrated hand against the ground. Pain jolted through his arm, white hot, and he choked on a sob. He had to get up. He had to… 

How could he take care of Virgil in this state? He was so _stupid_. 

He had his petty grievances with the other side before, but in this new and unfamiliar situation all of that seemed wiped away when it came to his current feelings. All he felt now was a desperate sort of protectiveness and fear. He was responsible for Virgil’s safety and wellbeing— he had to make sure he was alright. It was his duty as leader in this kingdom to take care of his guests. 

But beyond that, he liked Virgil, and he cared. He cared so much more than he’d realized. He wanted family dinners back. He wanted to banter with Virgil again, in the times when their arguing had been light-hearted poking fun at each other and not based in anger and pain, if it ever truly had been. He wanted to solve another one of Thomas’ dilemmas and see Virgil back where he belonged, sitting there on the stairs right next to him. 

But, against his will, different images flashed in front of his eyes— perhaps he had led Virgil straight to his death today. He could be bleeding out somewhere on the forest floor, away from aid or care. Who knew what was happening to him now, away from Roman’s protection? For a second he could almost see Virgi’s face, twisted in a pained grimace, in the air before him. 

Roman would have to return, injured and alone and tell everyone that Virgil was gone. He could almost see Patton’s shattered expression as if he were standing right in front of him. 

Or what if neither of them returned at all, both bleeding out alone in the Imagination at his own brother’s hand? 

_No, you can’t think like that, Roman,_ he chastised himself. This wasn’t like him. He must be delirious— imagining things that weren’t there as if they were right in front of him. He couldn’t indulge in worst-case scenarios now. 

He had a My Chemical Romance fan to save. He could have those things he wanted. He had to hold on faith that it was possible. 

And, honestly... he wanted more than a simple return to the past. Ever-fanciful, forever-Icarus, he _always_ wanted more. He wanted late-night conversations. He wanted Virgil’s smiles. He wanted to watch Disney movies, just the two of them, and pick them apart. He wanted— he wanted some things he hadn’t ever really admitted to himself, before now. 

And he would never get any of it if he laid here and bled out, he realized, cold and alone in his own goddamn Realm. This was no time to indulge in fear. 

Slowly, achingly, Roman pushed himself to his feet. By the time he was up he was panting, hot and cold flashing across his battered body, but he was standing and that’s all he needed. With a definitive shake of his head, he banished his thoughts of worst-case scenarios to the back of his mind. He wouldn’t let them have control of him right now. Maybe his head injury was clearing up or something, because all those scary visions were faded, now, out of sight. 

Supporting himself with his sword, he pushed on. 

He was a Prince, and he wasn’t going down so easily. 

… 

Virgil came to, cold and alone. Roman wasn’t anywhere in sight. He was halfway to a panic attack within a second of consciousness and his breaths rattled in and out of his chest, the only thing audible in the crushing silence. He rolled, off-balance, to his feet, even standing made near-impossible with one arm completely unusable. 

“Roman?” he called plaintively, stumbling. He was in the middle of nowhere. Where was Roman? Why weren’t they together? What if only he had made it out? What if Roman was—

Virgil’s breath came harsher as his thoughts spiraled. 

What if— what if Roman was dead? Drowned, bled out, bashed his head against the rocks—

 _No, I can’t think like that,_ Virgil told himself harshly. 

He was having trouble seeing— or at least having trouble seeing things clearly. His head was jumbled; it was like he was only reading the vague shapes of things instead of really comprehending where he was. His brain was in a loop of _Roman Roman Roman_ and he couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around anything else. 

_Head injury, maybe,_ he vaguely wondered. He raised his hand to the back of his head, checking for blood, stomach dropping when his hair was sopping wet. No, wait, that was just water, right? 

He forgot what he was checking for as the ground shifted below him, while the trees— were they trees?— shifted around. He stumbled along drunkenly, not sure how far he’d gone or how long it had been. Something in the back of his mind was tugging at him, telling him there was something he should be remembering. His eyes ghosted over his hands, held out in front of him; he raised them to his face in confusion, flipping them over and back again. Something was… wrong, with them. Had he had that many fingers before? 

All thoughts scattered as soon as he saw a figure standing in the corner of his vision. He whipped around, facing them. They turned as well, giving him an odd smile. 

“Th-Thomas?” Virgil stuttered, or at least he thought he did. “Why are you here?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be here? It’s my mind,” Thomas said, or must have said. Virgil didn’t remember seeing his lips move. That statement was a little strange but Virgil couldn’t get his thoughts in order enough to argue against it. “Why are you here?” Thomas asked. 

“I mean… I’m in your mind, too. Generally,” Virgil replied, even more confused than before. Things seemed to be solidifying around him, though, ground turning into cracked dirt beneath his feet, Thomas looming forward. He was right in front of him, now, oddly tall. When did he move? 

“Not what I meant, Anxiety,” Thomas’s face was strange and cold. His hand landed on Virgil’s chest, cold through the material of his shirt, and he felt his stomach dropping again as he backed away. Something was wrong, he was scared of Thomas, why was he scared of Thomas-

His foot met the edge of something, heel pushing out onto open air, and he looked over his shoulder to see the edge of a cliff. A deep pit, terrifying in its familiarity. A cold rush of fear flooded his chest. 

“No, no, no, I got out-” he gasped. “Wait, Thomas, please-” 

“You should have stayed down there where you belong,” Thomas sneered. 

And then, with a deceptively light movement, he reached out and pushed Virgil backwards and he was _falling—_

… 

Roman walked through the forest quickly, guard up, hand clenched around his sword. 

He called out for Virgil as he walked. “Anxiety? Flynn _Hider_ , are you there? Anx- Virgil? Hello?” 

All caution had gone to the wind in favor of a swifter discovery of his cautious compatriot. He remembered little flashes— falling back into the water, pain blooming fresh and immediate, the impact of something against his head, but he wasn’t sure what had happened to Virgil. He had likely attempted to follow Roman, maybe running along the edge of the stream, but the fact that they were not together at the moment was worrying to say the least. Something must have happened along the way. 

Fear clutched at his heart, threatened to swallow him alive, but he swallowed it down. He ignored the shadows edging through the trees and in the corners of his vision, the blood dripping down his shirt. He had a certain emo nightmare to find. 

He, however, was finding that extremely difficult. The first arrow had passed clean through the muscle above his collarbone, bleeding freely, and the second was sticking straight out of his chest, twisted in fabric and chainmail. He was feeling fainter as time passed, but he thought that if he stopped to deal with his wounds he would never stand again. 

He fell to his knees, panting. The shadows on the edges of his vision were back, now, darkening, threatening to envelop him. 

Then he heard it, off to his right in the woods. A voice. Someone was speaking, muttering, but it didn’t sound like a conversation. 

Steeling himself, he walked half on his knees through the dirt to see Virgil, lying on his side in the middle of a clearing. He would have almost been relieved if not for the state he was in. 

Virgil was curled up on the ground, in a fetal position, shivering and clutching at his arms. He was soaking wet, clothes waterlogged and dripping, blood mixing in and dripping off of his prone form. More concerning however were his eyes, wide and unseeing, pupils dilated in fear. There were tear tracks streaked through his smudged eyeshadow and he didn’t look aware of his surroundings at all. He was still speaking, though, nearly indiscernible and not moving at all besides the shivers wracking his frame. 

Stranger still was his shadow. It looked… odd. Longer and almost darker than normal. It swallowed all light from the clearing, making Virgil himself look leeched of color. 

Roman staggered to kneel by his side, knees digging into the wet dirt. 

“No, no, no… nononononono,” Virgil was muttering, breaths coming faster and faster. “No, I-I got out, it was a mistake, I’m sorry! Please don’t, no, is anyone there? Help! Help! Help, please! I’ll- I’ll be better, please, Thomas—”

“Virgil, Virgil, I’m right here,” Roman was panting, frantic hands hovering right above Virgil’s trembling form. Should he touch him? He felt his own carefully-withheld fear rising. “It’s— it’s gonna be okay, I’m right here-” 

Virgil spasmed, sobbing, curling into himself and Roman took the plunge, resting a firm hand on Virgil’s shoulder. 

“Can you hear me? Virgil?” His breath seemed to catch, briefly, eyes still terrified but now also confused. 

“W-what? Who’s there? Hello?” Virgil said, seeming almost lucid for a second before devolving back into panic. “W… who are you? Ca-can you help me? Take me back, please, please, I’ll do anything, take me back-” 

Roman was babbling himself, now, still not sure Virgil would even be able to hear. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, I’ll take you back, don’t worry.” 

The shadows around them seemed to darken and grow. Roman swallowed nervously, leaning more protectively over him. Virgil froze on the ground, not saying anything at all. He squeezed his eyes shut, pained, hands curling around his head. 

“R-Roman?” he choked out, sounding horrified. He still wasn’t opening his eyes. “You’re here, too? How?” 

Roman frowned even more deeply in confusion. “Yes, I’m here, don’t worry,” he replied, curling his hand protectively around Virgil’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. 

Virgil paled. “ _No._ ”

Then their surroundings darkened in a snap, transforming. 

Then all the breath left his lungs as they were suddenly falling, plunging into a deep pit; Roman’s arms windmilling as they freefell in the dark. With a surge of adrenaline, he managed to snag Virgil’s sleeve just before he was out of reach, pulling the smaller side to his chest.

“What in the name of Tartarus?!” he screamed in confusion, right into Virgil’s ear. “What just happened?!” 

Virgil’s eyes wrenched open for the first time, chest heaving, hair flying up and around his pale face. That vacant look was gone, but none of the fear had receded. 

“Ro- Roman?!” he gasped out, tears still trickling down his cheeks. “You’re really here?! I’m so sorry, this is all my fault-” 

“Yeah, I’m here, I got you-” Roman said, eyes widening for a split second as he noticed that oh, shit, _here comes the ground-_

He barely had a second to move as he flipped their positions in midair, curling around Virgil protectively before they made impact and he knew no more. 

… 

Consciousness came back slowly. He could feel hard dirt on his back and hot, flaring pain radiating all through his right side. 

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Virgil was gasping from somewhere. Roman couldn’t make him out, couldn’t make out much of anything past the spots of color and flecks of black taking up his view. 

“Wha’ happn’d,” Roman slurred, vision swimming. When he squinted, he felt like he could make out that they were somewhere dark. 

_No shit,_ he thought blearily. _It’s nighttime, of course it’s dark._ He didn’t have any brilliant deductions past that, though, as his head felt like it was splitting open from a headache and it was making it very difficult to think. 

“Roman! Oh god, Roman, are you okay?!” He felt a soft, cool hand alight on his cheekbone, barely touching. That must be Virgil. 

He could only let out a pained groan in response, trying to move his limbs to stand but only managing a little twitch instead. 

“Stupid question, stupid question,” Virgil cursed. “You’re gonna be fine, okay, Roman? You’re gonna-” he voice broke, wobbling dangerously. “You’re gonna be fine, I’ll fix this. We’re getting out of here, don’t worry.” 

“‘Kay,” Roman murmured, too tired to even argue. He felt firm hands press straight onto the wound near his neck, waves of agony lancing up and down his arm and side. He winced. “Hurts.” 

“Where does it hurt?” Virgil asked anxiously, not letting up the pressure. He was bandaging it, Roman realized; he must have shrugged the arm off of his outfit while he was passed out. He couldn’t feel any blood flow from the wound anymore (or at least not as much) but it sent wicked spikes of pain through his neck and arm. 

“Next to my neck,” Roman grit out. He couldn’t see much, not really able to turn his head, but he could make out a lot of blood. “Chest. Also head. And… foot.” 

“Yeah, uh, I think it might be fractured,” Virgil replied thinly, audibly trying to conceal his panic. It didn’t really work, but Roman appreciated the effort. 

“The first arrow passed clean through your shoulder above your collarbone. The… trapezius? Or something? You’ve been losing blood, but I, uh, staunched it somewhat. I think the second arrow mostly buried itself in your armor and got twisted in your clothing. It didn’t go too deep, which is good. That would have been… very not great.” 

“You can just say ‘completely shit’, no need to sugarcoat it,” Roman smirked, chuckling a little before breaking off into hacking coughs once more. When he cracked his eyes open again, his vision had resolved itself a little better: he could see Virgil’s pale, worried face hovering above him. Virgil’s deep brown eyes stared right into his own, stress practically radiating off of him. 

Roman pointed to his bandaged shoulder with his uninjured arm, smiling weakly. “Hey, we match.” 

Instead of laughing, Virgil’s eyes filled with tears once more as his expression crumpled. “Roman, I’m so sorry.” 

“S’not your fault,” Roman said in confusion. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ ‘bout. I’m the knight here.” Virgil was the one who had been injured first when he had failed to fight Remus off, and now he was taking care of Roman again. 

“It’s not your fault you got shot!” Virgil said, looking too affronted to remember he had been about to cry. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! I mean…” he broke off raggedly, taking a gulping breath. Roman realized with a sinking sense of foreboding that he was panicking again, breaths coming out harsh and stuttering once more. 

“I’m fight or flight, I’m supposed to _protect everyone else,_ ” Virgil gasped, clutching at his hair. His voice started to echo a little but he didn’t even seem to notice, starting vacantly down at Roman’s wound. “Now you’re **bleeding out** and we’re **stuck** and **I somehow brought you here and you’re going to be _Forgotten_ and it’s all my fault-**” 

To his horror, Roman could see the shadows in the cave twisting and darkening around Virgil, along with Virgil’s eyeshadow. He didn’t have time to think through the implications of all that but he had to say _something-_

“Woah, woah, whoah, Virge, none of that is gonna happen, don’t worry,” he babbled. “Just, uh, take a deep breath-” He moved to sit up but fell back with a wince, breath catching in his throat. 

Virgil’s hysterical eyes found their way back to his face, grip on his hair white-knuckled and clearly painful. “ **Take a deep breath?!** ” he said incredulously. The shadows behind him grew taller, stretching along the wall of the pit. “ **Roman, we’re going to die here and me taking a deep breath isn’t going to _solve that problem!_** ” 

Roman stared back mutely, breath caught in his throat at Virgil’s manic expression and the towering shadows behind him. 

Virgil seemed to take his speechless confusion as fear and broke off, still panting, eyes wide in horror. 

“I’m… sorry,” he said quietly, looking away. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.” The shadows behind him were still there, but they almost seemed to wilt as Virgil reigned in his upset, a little broken expression on his face. 

“It’s okay,” Roman said absently. “I think I figured something out about how we can get out of here.” 

“Y-yeah?” Virgil said hopefully, the shadows shrinking even lower. “I- I don’t even know how we got here, I mean we were just in the Imagination-” 

“What? Virgil, we _are_ in the Imagination. Never mind that. Something happened just now, when you were-”

“Freaking out, I know,” Virgil said sheepishly. His eyes seemed more focused now, though, the bleakness of before fading away. 

“Yeah. That. There’s been these weird shadows around this whole time, and when you were, uh… _freaking out,_ they seemed to grow darker and larger. I think it’s connected to Remus’ power here somehow.” 

Virgil moved back to tending to Roman’s wounds, finishing wrapping his shoulder securely in ripped cloth and bandages. 

“Huh.” Virgil said, contemplative. “What, so when I was more panicked, they grew?” 

“Looked like it. And it seemed like they were on you, somehow, when I first found you after we were separated.” 

Virgil looked disturbed. “What? On me? What are you talking about?” 

Roman frowned up at him, trying to remember past the fogginess in his mind. 

“I found you in a clearing, you seemed out of it. When I touched you and you seemed to realize I was there, this pit formed below us and then we were falling,” he explained, waving his uninjured hand vaguely. 

“Well. I’m just going to accept that without too many questions. I thought... something else was happening,” Virgil said cagily, eyes shifting away as he chewed on his bottom lip. “So the shadow things, whatever they are, were showing me something that wasn’t actually real. It felt real, though.” 

“Why is it not affecting me as much?” Roman wondered. “I mean, it still is… it just seems less.” 

Virgil chewed on his lip, brow furrowed before turning to Roman in realization.  
“I think believing in it and being scared of it… gives it power,” Virgil gasped. “You— you weren’t focusing on your own fear… you were focusing on finding me, right? And also I’m literally the embodiment of fear and anxiety, being afraid isn’t really optional for me. Makes sense that I would be more affected.” 

“I just don’t _understand._ How does that work?! That’s not how the Imagination usually goes!” Roman said in frustration, setting his jaw in frustration. Were the shadows constructs Remus had formed to send after them? Or something else entirely?

“Maybe it’s because this is ‘your’ part of the Imagination?” Virgil suggested. “He has less power here than normal. Maybe our ‘headspaces’ can affect the power he can use, and they’re weaker if we’re more mentally secure, or something.” 

Roman sighed. “That’s as good an explanation as any, I suppose, though there are still oddities. We don’t really have time to worry over that, though. We need to escape.” 

“And how do we do that?” 

“I think if we focus, we can get rid of this pit, or at least make it small enough to climb out of. We just need to concentrate on letting him have less sway over us.” 

“Are you really asking the _literal embodiment of anxiety_ to be less scared?” Virgil asked incredulously, twisting his hands nervously in his sleeves. Roman noticed his hands were covered in tacky, drying blood and winced internally. 

Virgil’s shoulder was still injured and he was covered in scrapes and dirt, drenched in river water with fresh tear tracks on his face. He wouldn’t blame him for being freaked out right now. He didn’t say any of that, though. He sighed a little, setting his features into some approximation of reassuring.

“I am. I know you can do it. That’s our way out of here.” 

“I… I can do it,” Virgil said shakily, not sounding very sure. “I can do this. I can do this. Less scared. Got it.” He squeezed his eyes shut so tight it looked borderline painful, curling his hands around his ears. He breathed in and out deeply, carefully, tension lining his frame. 

Roman stared him down for a long minute. The silence stretched out between them, hanging heavy in the air. Virgil’s mouth was pressed into a thin line until he cracked. 

He growled in frustration, whipping his head around to stare Roman down. 

“Just-- don’t stare at me! I’m trying, okay!” he snapped, eyes flashing, hunching his shoulders. 

“Okay, if it’s really necessary,” Roman said, a little sarcastically. 

“Well, it is. So.” Virgil replied with a glare. Roman acquiesced, turning to stare at the wall instead. 

Still, nothing seemed to be happening. Every time he glanced up at the sky or back to Virgil, it was just the same. A small circle of sky visible tens of feet above them and Virgil’s face screwed up in frustration. 

As minutes passed in silence, Roman watched Virgil just become more and more visibly upset. He cringed internally. He felt like Virgil was probably spiralling-- he was coming to realize more and more lately that Virgil did that very often-- but he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. 

“You can’t do it?” he asked at length. 

Virgil startled, eyes flying open. 

“I never said that!” 

“I know. I said it.”

“I- I can, okay! I can.” 

“Okay, that’s… okay. But it’s also okay if you can’t,” Roman said awkwardly. “Maybe it can’t be as easily controlled as we thought. That’s okay.” 

“No, it’s my fault,” Virgil said bitterly. “I can’t… I can’t be brave anymore, Princey. I’m sorry. This is on me.” 

He scooted back, away from Roman, pressing his back to the wall of the pit. His head drooped to rest his chin on his knees and he curled his arms around himself protectively. Roman thought he could almost see his eyes shimmering with withheld tears. 

“You’ve been brave. You’re brave, you’ve been so brave,” Roman said, irritation draining away at Virgil’s cracked-open expression. Painfully, he pushed himself up onto his elbows to see Virgil better. It sent another wave of pain through him as all of his wounds cried out at being jostled. 

“But if I can’t do this you’re going to die and it’ll be all my fault!” Virgil cried, near tears once more. 

“No, no, don’t cry, it’s gonna be fine,” Roman said. “I, uh, have a plan.”

“Yeah?” 

Roman steeled himself. “Virgil, you might have to leave me behind.”

Virgil shook his head harshly, fingers curling into the fabric of Roman’s shirt. “What the hell are you saying?! I’m not— I’m not doing that, Roman. _I won’t._ ” 

“You might have to,” he insisted gently. “I’m too injured. Logan would agree. Your legs and feet aren’t injured-- you have a better chance of making it out of this accursed hole, and then you can come back for me.” 

“Don’t bring Logan into this,” Virgil retorted, lips trembling and face pale. Roman’s heart twisted at the sight of him, but he knew he was right. “That’s the most stupid suggestion I’ve ever heard. If any one of us makes it out of here, it’s gonna be you.” 

“Virgil. You _have_ to go.” 

“ **NO!** ” Virgil shouted, tangling his hands in his hair again and tugging painfully, voice adopting the echo it had when he was overwhelmed. He panted for breath, tears dripping down his nose. 

To be honest, Roman was surprised at the strength of his reaction. He’d never even though Virgil liked him, figured the sentiment had been mutual for a long time. But now he was visibly horrified at the idea of leaving him behind, even if it was the smarter option. 

“You’re important, Roman, I’m not gonna let you die down here in this… in this pit,” he spat venomously, eyes glittering with resolve. “I don’t care if I have to throw myself off of a thousand cliffs. You’re making it _out._ ” 

“And what, you’re less important? You would let yourself die?!” Roman retorted, reeling forward. His injuries tugged painfully, but he was heedless to the pain, clutching at Virgil’s collar. 

Virgil paused. Roman’s expression dropped in shock, grip going slack on his shirt. 

“No, I can’t… I shouldn’t. I can’t die,” Virgil said, but his voice was uncertain and it sounded like he was trying to convince himself, not Roman. “I’m not stupid. I learned that before, remember?” 

Roman knit his brow, concern blooming even more immediate in his chest. “Before?! There’s been a before?!” 

Was Virgil implying he'd almost died? Or that he had died? How did he not _notice_ that?

Virgil furrowed his brow, crossing his arms defensively. “Jeez, Princey, you must have gotten hit on the head harder than I thought. Maybe we should check that out again.” 

Roman’s head was spinning as he started Virgil down, who had his arms curled protectively around himself. 

“When you ‘ducked out’,” Roman gasped in realization. “I didn’t think… I don’t understand… Virgil, what does ‘ducking out’ mean?” 

“What did you think ‘ducking out’ meant, taking a freaking vacation?” Virgil scoffed, averting his eyes. 

“Virgil, please. What does it mean?” 

“I…” he chewed on his lip, anxiety welling up in his throat and making it hard to breathe. “It means… I threw myself into the Subconscious. And when that didn’t work, I went deeper. And went to the Forgotten realm.”

Roman gasped. Virgil had tried to… erase himself? Completely remove his influence? He had… 

“You tried to kill yourself?” he choked out. The words hung in the air, harsh and ugly and _true_. 

Virgil’s lips were pressed in a thin line. He didn’t nod, but he knew that was an admission more than a denial. A sinking suspicion was nagging at Roman, dread filling him, flooding his stomach with cold fear. 

“Is that… is that what your ‘nightmare scenario’ was?” he asked, no more than a whisper. “Before, when I found you?” 

Virgil curled in on himself, his nod barely perceptible past his knees. 

“That looked horrible.” Virgil had looked… so scared. He’d never seen anyone that afraid, before. Might never see someone that afraid again. 

Virgil bit harshly down on his lip. “Yeah. Well. It was.” 

Roman spoke without thinking. “What was it like?” 

Virgil’s head jerked up sharply, and Roman was backtracking as soon as he realized what he’d said. “Sorry, sorry! I shouldn’t have asked, you don’t have to say anything if—” 

“It hurt.” Virgil cut him off, looking almost as surprised as Roman at the admission. 

Roman fell silent, waiting to see if he would continue. Virgil scoffed, a little brokenly. “I guess since we’re gonna be stuck here forever, I might as well tell you. Not like it’ll harm anything. Maybe it’ll be good to give you fair warning, since you wanna know so bad.” 

“I… if you don’t want to talk about it, it is really okay,” Roman insisted, feeling out of his depth. This bitter, desolate Anxiety wasn’t one he knew how to deal with. Pessimism, yes, but not this level of despair. 

“I… it’s fine.” Virgil paused, drawing in a deep breath. When he spoke, his eyes were distant. “It starts out slow. You’re walking through the Subconscious, pushing lower and lower, so gradually it kind of… sneaks up on you. The disconnectedness. Wasn’t sure if it was just my rising anxiety or not, at first. My emotions started feeling kind of faraway, the good ones anyway. All my limbs started feeling faraway, too, buzzing with pins and needles and then just kind of… numbing out. I started losing my awareness of and connection to Thomas, growing fainter the further I went. 

“I, uh… I went deep into the Subconscious, but it wasn’t enough. I could still… feel him there, sense our connection, even if it was weakened to the point where I couldn’t speak to him anymore. But that wasn’t my _goal._ I didn’t want to be influencing Thomas at all, I wanted to destroy myself completely. I figured if he really did need some of my function after all, a new side would just form in my place. A better side. And if not? Well… I would be gone. So I decided to go to the Realm of the Forgotten.” 

“Virgil-” Roman gasped, shocked. He had said it before, but— “I didn’t think—”

“Just let me— just let me finish, Princey,” Virgil said tiredly. “I got this far.” 

Roman nodded, closing his mouth. The Realm of the Forgotten was the deepest of fears for any side. Things that went there weren’t just relegated to the Subconscious-- in existence but something Thomas was unaware of, like the function Sleep— they were just _gone. Forever._ Logan even thought that things that went there could be lost even to the memory of the sides. 

Virgil had been willing to remove himself so completely? Gone forever, not even remembered by other sides like Patton and Logan?

“Okay,” Virgil took a deep breath. “Yeah. So. I walked for a long time. Not sure how long, that place had a way of screwing with your head, making you remember things wrong or not at all. The deeper I went, the more… patchy… my memory became. And it wasn’t just my memory. I think I started to lose parts of… myself? And those pins and needles were back, but now they weren’t just pins and needles, they were burning fire, like my atoms were being ripped apart. When I looked down at my hands they were getting blurry at the edges as I was slowly being… erased. 

“My memories were fogging and slipping away. I didn’t even want to keep going anymore, but I couldn’t find a reason to stop. I didn’t know how to stop, maybe I even forgot what it was. So I just kept walking. And walking. I came to the edge of a pit, I think. I was looking down into it. There wasn’t a bottom that I could see. I was trying to remember who I was. It felt like the more I forgot, the further I tipped into that pit, staring down into the darkness. I had almost completely forgotten when…” 

“When Thomas summoned you back to your room,” Roman said dully. “He gave you the connection to come back.” 

Virgil nodded in agreement, chewing on his bottom lip. “Yeah.” 

“I— you should have told us.” 

The words felt paltry as soon as they left his lips. Virgil had told him that, and here he was, asking why he hadn’t talked to his tormentor about his suicide run. 

Virgil gave him a confused glare. “I did tell you. I told all of you, in my room. I said I was ducking out. That I quit.” 

“I didn’t know that was what it meant! I don’t know what I thought— that maybe you were just taking a vacation? Giving up on the work of the job? Even going back to the Dark Sides?” 

“The Others,” Virgil cut in defensively. 

“The Others,” Roman allowed. 

“Well, now you know, I guess,” Virgil said lamely, awkward in the face of how much of a revelation this was to Roman. 

“Virgil, I am so sorry,” Roman said, realizing with a little start that he was completely sincere. He felt tears in his eyes and realized that he had been crying some, wet trails marking his cheeks. “I can never make this up to you. I can’t believe that my… completely unprincely behavior led you to such extremes. I would never wish harm upon you, not then and certainly not now. I wish… I could have been there for you, when you were going through such hardship. No one should ever have had to go through the torture that you were subjected to down there. I can’t begin to imagine the pain you must have been in.” 

“Are you serious? I figure you would’ve rather pushed me in rather than helped me,” Virgil drawled, but his eyes were a little questioning. Vulnerable. 

“Virgil, we’ve had our differences and disagreements before. But I would never wish death upon you, even back then. Never.” 

“I… okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, okay. I believe you.” 

Roman deliberated for a moment. “I suppose I owe you an explanation.” 

Virgil snorted, no humor in the sound. “Yeah, no thanks. I’m not in the mood to sit here and listen to you read out the laundry list of things I did to make you hate me.” 

“No, no, Virgil, that’s not what I meant I all! I meant an explanation of my behavior… centered on me.” 

“Yeah? Centered on you, huh? Guess I should have expected that.”

Roman, a little alarmed at the insult, checked Virgil expression, but he actually seemed to be… joking? Bantering, maybe? The faintest hint of a smirk was tugging on the corner of his mouth, though his face was still wan and creased with stress.

“Well? You gonna spit it out?” he asked, eyebrow raised. Roman blinked, trying to focus. Trying to sit up had probably been a bad idea because he was feeling even dizzier thsn before, now. 

“I- yeah. I just… things have always made so much _sense_ , you know?” Great start, Roman. 

“Sense?” 

“In the Mindscape. Well, maybe not for you,” Roman winced. “But for me. After Remus and I split, I’ve always been the good one, you know? It’s always been so black and white. Light and Dark. I didn’t _want_ to accept the idea that you could be good. I didn’t even want to consider the possibility. Because a hero without a villain is no hero at all. And more than that… if you could be good, then I could be _bad_. I could have been bad all along, and… I didn’t want to admit that. To anyone or myself, not for a very long time. Maybe not even until now. That I hurt you without cause. That I was the villian. That I’m…” 

“You’re not bad, Roman,” Virgil said, impossibly soft. “And believe me, I understand thinking that about yourself. Out of everyone else, I think I get that the most.”

“I’m… not so sure I am. But thank you. That does help somewhat,” he smiled a little. “And Virgil?”

“Yeah?”

“I never intend to leave you alone like that again. I’ll never allow you to experience that kind of pain, not even once more while I breathe.” 

Virgil’s eyes were glimmering with tears. 

“Then let’s get out of here.” 

“Nobody dies?”

Virgil smiled a little, nodding in agreement. “Yeah. Nobody dies.” 

“Okay, so how do we get out?” 

Virgil’s eyes darted up and widened, a pleased little grin spreading across his face for what might have been the first time in days. 

“I think we’re already halfway there,” he said, grinning. 

Roman craned his neck. The lip of the chasm had lowered significantly, only about ten feet above them now. He looked up at Virgil in excitement. 

“Then let’s get out of here!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: blood/gore, injury, falling/fear of heights, discussions of attempted suicide and suicidal thoughts  
> I think that's it for warnings? Let me know if I missed something! 
> 
> This chapter really should just be called "Roman and Virgil have a deep talk for another 6000 words" lol. What can I say. Even if they don't like to talk abt their feelings in canon I draw upon the power of near-death bonding experiences to have them work out their issues haha. I'm finally done with my AP testing and school is winding down so hopefully I can get to write more, which will be good cuz I haven't updated some of my WIPS in literal months I'm pretty sure lmao. This story doesn't quite get the same attention as some of my other stories but I don't mind as much cuz I love action/adventure fics like this one lol so I'll probably even finish this one first. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are really appreciated! Let me know what you thought! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. cemetery drive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next installment! This one's a big one. Emotionally prepare yourselves haha. Warnings in the end note.

Virgil huffed out a harsh breath. Though the lip of the chasm had lowered significantly, getting out of the pit still wasn’t exactly easy. 

They decided on boosting Virgil out of the hole first: when standing upright, held up by Roman, he was just tall enough to reach the edge to hoist himself up. Getting Roman to even stand, however, was a struggle: he was still faint from his head injury and blood loss, the heel of one foot damaged as well as the arrow wound near his shoulder. Virgil had to manhandle him upright, guiding him to lean against the wall. Roman had tried to wave him off, insisting that he was _“Already feeling better!”_ but Virgil remained doubtful. 

Virgil himself wasn’t doing great, but he counted himself as less injured than Roman. 

He let Roman kneel so he could clamber awkwardly onto his shoulders, holding tight as Roman stood. Then there was a bit of awkward scrambling to get stood up on them. He didn’t stand on the injured one; Roman instead held his hand palm up and supported Virgil’s foot with it. With one of Virgil’s arms out of commission, Roman ended up having to half-throw Virgil up with his hands while Virgil jumped up to actually get a good enough grip to haul himself out. Getting Roman out was another matter, including a lot of cursing, a little conjured rope, and Virgil nearly chewing through the inside of his cheek out of anxiety. 

Once out, Roman dusted himself off, turning to Virgil. 

“Onward, then,” he said. 

“Lead on, Macduff,” Virgil replied, quirking his lip up in the hint of a smile. 

“Aha! You do know some theatre, after all! Though the actual quote is ‘Lay on, Macduff’.” 

Virgil snorted. “Well then. Lay on, I guess.” 

“We _should_ actually sleep,” Roman said consideringly. “Though we should get some food first. I think there’s an orchard around here…” 

“In the middle of the forest? Really? I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“It is in the Imagination! I always leave a few orchards or other sources of food scattered in my forests. It breaks some of the monotony of monster hunting.” 

Well. He couldn’t really argue with that. Sure enough, within a few minutes of walking they did come across an orchard, hidden away in the trees, space cleared away for neatly spaced apple trees. Roman seemed overjoyed that it was still there, checking around the clearing to make sure everything was as it was before. Virgil wanted to find his glee ridiculous, but his relief was contagious and he couldn’t help but be happy as well. Not to mention the fact that food and sleep was a welcome thought after running themselves ragged the rest of the day. 

They sat down heavily on the grass, eating slightly underripe apples. They were too hard and much too sour, and they might have been the best thing Virgil had ever tasted. 

“I have something to give you,” Roman said, non-sequitur. 

Virgil perked up, wincing as he swallowed a too-large chunk of apple. “Yeah?” 

“Something for protection. This isn’t much, but it’s all I can conjure, currently,” Roman admitted. He furrowed his brow, and with an only slightly dramatic flourish he produced a small, wicked-looking dagger. 

“Figured a one-handed weapon would work best for now. Better a paltry defense than nothing at all. Since you’re insisting on protecting me, instead of the other way around…” 

Virgil raised the dagger to his face, inspecting it. It was simple and sleek in design, but it was obvious Princey had to have made it just for him. Roman watched his face, hawk-eyed, ever attentive to others’ reactions to his work. 

The hilt was black, slightly ribbed with delicate silver spider-webbing patterns spanning it, and when he flipped in to look at the heel of the blade he could see six little spider eyes there. There were two more on the guard, the metal of which was a matching silver, curved up and away slightly on one side. The blade itself curved a little as well and was slightly serrated, a couple of large nasty-looking spikes along one side. It had Roman’s flair for the elegant without being overly ornate. If Virgil stabbed someone with this, they wouldn’t be getting up. 

It was, simply put, sick as hell. This was definitely one of the best gifts ever. 

“I Never Told You What I Do for a Living,” Virgil said absently, laughing a little. 

Roman made a face of confusion, wrinkling his brow and pursing his lips exaggeratedly. 

“Come again, Scare Bear?” 

“It just reminded me of a My Chemical Romance song. There’s a lyric that goes, ‘another knife in my hand, a stain that never comes out’,” Virgil explained, feeling extremely ridiculous. “It’s, uh, from the last song on their second album, which concludes the story spanning their first two albums about a man trying to reunite with his lover after she was killed by making a deal with the Devil to kill 1000 evil men.” 

He turned the handle of the knife over in his hand consideringly, studying the way light reflected off the blade. 

“There’s a few different interpretations of the end of the story. While the narrator says that the two of them will be reunited and ‘dance again’, the song also ends on ‘we’re all dead now’. So, either he finished his task and he was the last man he had to kill to be with her, he killed a thousand other men and she was resurrected and they both died, or… he was caught and failed his task, the both of them dying and never seeing each other again.” 

Roman’s blank face wasn’t doing his anxiety any favors and he flushed deeply, wishing he could bury his hands in his hoodie pockets but they were both unfortunately occupied with grievous injury and/or a very sharp knife. 

“Nevermind, I’m-- delirious or something, probably. It’s stupid. I’m just trying to say the knife is cool. Thanks.” 

“No, I don’t mind. I don’t fully understand it, but if you want to talk to me about your Chemical Romance, I’ll gladly listen,” Roman said, oddly sincere. 

Virgil scoffed, unable to help his growing smile. “Don’t act like you don’t know they’re called My Chemical Romance, Princey.” 

“Fine! You got me!” Roman huffed theatrically. “Though I wasn’t completely sure! I’m not as up-to-date on this whole ‘emo’ subculture.”

“More like 10 years too late,” Virgil smirked. “Emo happened like a decade ago.”

“I know that!” Roman defended himself again, smiling as well. 

“Sure you do.”

Roman paused, clearly in thought, drumming his fingers against the ground. 

“So, Virgil…”

“Yeah?”

“Which way do you see it? The end of the, uh, album? Do you think they both made it, and were reunited? Or do you think it was all for nothing-- that he failed and never saw her again.”

Virgil hummed consideringly, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I’m not sure. I’ve never seen it as definitely being one way or another before, keeping things open for interpretation. But I like to think he succeeded and got to be with her, in the end.”

“So this is the stuff you’ve been hiding from me,” Roman teased gently, knocking his knee lightly against Virgil’s. “Maybe I’m not the only romantic side, after all.”

“Psh, as if,” Virgil responded, turning his head to hide his flushed face in his hoodie. He could just feel Roman’s raised eyebrow staring him down and he flushed more, not sure why he was so embarrassed or just not wanting to acknowledge it. Something soft and flustered was unfolding in his chest, suffusing his limbs and through his bloodstream, making his pulse race and a blush rise to his face. 

Roman made a judgmental little hum. 

“Oh yeah, and there’s a sheath on your side. If you didn’t notice.”

Virgil glanced down and yep, there one was. “What the hell, how did that get there without me noticing? Warn a dude next time.” 

“Not my fault you didn’t notice it right under-sheath your nose. you’re gonna have to work on your awareness if you want to hilt a candle to me. But Rome wasn’t hilt in a day.”

“ _Princey._ That caused me physical pain. You’re killing me.” 

Roman laughed freely. And despite the situation, even deep in the awful depths of that forest, they managed to find a little solace in that night. 

Worry, however, still nagged at him, pressing ever-closer to the surface in his mind. Both of them were still heavily injured, a while to go yet before they came in sight of their destination. 

But that was a problem to worry about tomorrow. For now, he tried to force himself to sleep. 

… 

They took turns with the watch. Shadows seemed to lurk around, always just barely out of sight, but nothing came close enough to attack the whole night. Nerves gnawed at him, and he couldn’t help but feel as though there was a reason for that, but he tried to banish those thoughts. They wouldn’t do any good for them now. 

Other thoughts came unbidden as well. Virgil told himself he would stare out at the woods around him when it was his turn to be on watch, but over and over again his gaze kept being drawn back to Roman. Without his conscious direction, his eyes would trace over the line of his brow, the sweep of his cheekbones, the softness of his eyelashes, the curve of his mouth-- 

And then he would rip his focus away until the cycle repeated itself. 

He told himself it was just because Roman was there. Not like there was much else to look at even vaguely interesting; the forest was almost dead silent. But he couldn’t fully convince himself. He’d always found Roman oddly handsome, though you’d never catch him dead admitting it out loud. He’d always been a little fascinated, a little windswept by him. But he’d always been driven away from the other side simply due to Roman’s own hatred of Virgil. Despite their similarities, Roman had always seemed to despise him, and that made it almost too much for Virgil to bear to be around him. 

But maybe it wasn’t that Virgil didn’t like Roman, and that’s why he evaded his company. Maybe it was always that he had liked him too much, despite all their arguing. That’s what made it so much worse. 

But now, deep in the forest, just the two of them alone against all odds? He was privy to a side of Roman he had never seen before. A side Roman was finally letting him see. Roman was trying to mend all the bridges he had burned down, over and over again. And against his best effort, all of Virgil’s walls were starting to soften and come down. It was a little exciting and a little terrifying all at once. 

So yeah. Virgil was having some trouble keeping his eyes off Roman. He was turning into some Edward Cullen wannabe, despite his wishes. He ended up staring down at his face more often than not, watching the soft rise and fall of his chest and mapping the smoothness of his face. When it was his turn to sleep, he had trouble drifting off, too aware of the heat of Roman’s body behind him. 

Day came too soon and not soon enough. Waiting through the night had been nerve-wracking, but Virgil still felt exhausted by daybreak. Regardless, he forced himself up. 

A little wonderingly, he ghosted his fingers over the handle of his knife, sheathed at his side. It really was cool, but more than that he was impressed that Roman had put so much effort into something for him even when he was this weakened. It was incredibly stupid, to be certain, but it did assure Virgil a little bit to know he had an extra measure of protection at him side. 

They set out slowly, but Virgil could tell with each passing hour that they were drawing closer. By the time the sun was once more well and high in the sky, the distant turrets of the castle had become huge and looming in their view. 

“I wonder why he’s letting us draw so close…” Roman wondered aloud. 

“Yeah. Something seems off about all this.” 

They crested the final hill, looking down upon the citadel. 

And were met with the sight of a city absolutely swarming with those strange shadows. The streets were dark, cloaked in darkness, and patrolled by swarms of soldiers. Alarmed, Virgil dropped to the ground to duck out of sight, pulling Roman down with him. 

“What the hell? What was that?” he gasped, shocked, looking to Roman with wide eyes. 

“I… it’s not usually like that!” Roman defended. “I don’t… oh! Of course! I’m such a fool! After his attack in the forest was thwarted, he let us come to his place of power. He let us come straight to him, weakening as we walked, while he stayed back and gathered his forces here,” he said, eyeing the fortress with trepidation. 

“Ugh, you’re right. Now all of his forces are centered here. That’s smart,” Virgil groaned. “So how are we gonna get into… what was it called, again?”

“The kingdom of Arylo.”

Virgil turned to him in exasperation. “Roman, is that literally ‘Royal’ scrambled?” 

Roman turned red. “I made it when I was, like, six, okay! I wasn’t quite as practiced with clever names yet!” 

“Are you implying that you’re practiced with clever names now?” Virgil teased. “Might have to see some evidence of that, Princey.” 

“Uh, excuse me, Princess _Slay_ -ah! Pronounced like _Leia!_ You have seen evidence of that! Many times! Many, many times!” 

“That’s just, like, an actually cool name. Yeah. I’m not deigning that with a reply. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and say you’re tired.” 

Roman furrowed his brows in offense. “But that was a re-”

“How are we getting in, Roman,” Virgil cut in loudly. Roman huffed, but his expression shifted into one of concentration, so at least they were making progress. 

Roman looked a little chagrined. “We’re going to have to go through the palace.” 

“Through the palace?!” Virgil half-screeched. “Isn’t that, like, the absolute worst place to be right now?!” 

“Hear me out,” Roman hissed. “It’s not like we can just march up to the palace right now, not with the streets absolutely covered in Remus’ agents. And unfortunately, the castle is where we need to be. The door to leave the Imagination is in a courtyard in the center of the palace. I usually keep it off-limits and secure so that random constructs don’t go wandering outside.”

“So that means it’s more difficult for us to get to it. Great,” Virgil sighed. “So your plan is…?” 

“There’s a set of tunnels underground leading into the palace, in case of siege. Also just because I thought the idea was really cool when I made it. We can use them to enter, but after that we might have to disguise ourselves somewhat and sneak into the courtyard.” 

“Great. Only about a million gaping holes in the plan. My favorite kind,” Virgil said sarcastically. 

“Listen, if you have a better one, I’m listening!” Roman shot back, actually looking a little hurt. 

Virgil took a deep breath. “I-- look, Roman, I’m sorry. I don’t have anything better, okay? I’m just… nervous.”

Roman looked back down to meet his eyes, lip curling up into a small, sad smile. “Well, I can understand that. I am also… sorry. I understand that none of this is likely very easy on you.” 

Virgil shrugged. “It’s whatever. Not like either of us are doing great right now.” Roman started to open his mouth again, and Virgil cut him off, saying, “Now where are these tunnels?” 

Roman leading the way, they made their way around the edge of the city, keeping low and obscured by the hills, to the outer wall of the city facing the back side of the castle.  
Once there, Roman led him up to the wall, both of them glancing around to make sure they weren’t being watched. 

“Watch this,” he whispered. Reaching out, he grabbed hold of a particular stone in the wall. Virgil squinted. It didn’t really look like it would budge. Regardless, though, Roman managed to pry it out with some dedication to reveal a lever behind. 

“Wow. That is so extra,” Virgil said. “How do you even remember that it’s that particular stone?” 

“A very good memory and a lot of luck,” Roman replied with a grin. He reached in and wrenched the lever down decisively. Virgil stumbled back as a doorway in the ground slowly opened beneath their feet, staircase leading down under the wall into a dark tunnel. 

“Okay, I was wrong. Now _that_ is extra,” Virgil smirked. 

“Extra amazing, that is,” Roman sniped back. 

They descended down the steps into the tunnel, Roman pulling a lever inside down to close the passageway back up again. 

They didn’t have to walk far; soon they emerged into what was clearly a laundry room. Clothing stacked in baskets was piled around, along with tubs of hot water, washboards in wooden frames and bars of laundry soap. There was no one in the room at the moment, but Virgil had a feeling their luck wouldn’t last. 

Roman eyed the baskets of laundry with a critical eye. “You are almost already disguised, but I doubt what I’m wearing will stand up to scrutiny as a servant. Let me find something here for myself, but you’ll probably have to ditch the hoodie and the extra eyeshadow.” 

Virgil spluttered as Roman started digging through the heaps of clothes. “I can’t just leave my hoodie! It’s--” _important_. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t really justify bringing it-- it stuck out like a sore thumb, even tied around his waist-- but he didn’t want to lose it. 

Meanwhile, Roman had gone straight into digging around within baskets to find clothes to fit him. He produced a red tunic for himself, similar to the cut of Virgil’s own charcoal shirt, as well as a dark brown pair of pants. He wrapped a study belt with a gold buckle around his waist to better suit the style of those in the city. Virgil had to admit, he looked pretty dashing. He was pretty sure the draping nature of the shirt just looked stupid on him, but it looked much more elegant on Roman. 

Roman turned to eye his hoodie, deep in thought. Virgil’s fingers tightened their hold on the thick fabric, nervous. 

“How about a compromise?” Roman suggested. “I can temporarily transform that hoodie into some more fitting fantasy wear, and once we’re out of here I can transform it back. No harm done and your favorite article of clothing goes unnoticed and undamaged.” 

“Are you sure you can do that? Like, that you have the power to?”

“Of course! It’s so simple I could do it in my sleep.”

Roman snapped. Virgil’s hoodie transformed into a deep reddish-brown vest overlaying his tunic, buckled in the front with clasps as well as a dark brown belt that matched his leather boots. It was an unusually princely outfit, though the dark color scheme kept him from feeling too much like a Roman wannabe. Also, the whole “arm in a sling” thing kept him from looking too knightly. 

He reached up to touch the material of the vest, rubbing it between two fingers. The fabric was cool and much thinner than that of his hoodie. He missed its familiar weight already. But other than that, it was pretty alright. 

“Thanks, Roman.” 

Roman smiled. “My pleasure.” 

A servant girl carrying a load of laundry in her arms rounded the corner, stopping with a double take as soon as she saw them. Virgil almost jumped out of his skin, glad that they were both properly dressed to deter suspicion.

“What are you doing? You look... familiar,” she looked at Roman, “but I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” she said suspiciously to Virgil. 

“That’s because he just started! I was just taking the new manservant up to see his majesty,” Roman bluffed, a charming smile on his face. 

The servant frowned. “The King’s chambers are that way,” she said, pointing down the hall. “And decidedly not among the laundry.” 

“Oh, I, um--” Roman stumbled over his words. She eyed them critically. Virgil’s heart was racing in his chest and he couldn’t seem to breathe, air caught in his chest. “That’s simply because--” 

“Look,” she said, leaning a little closer. Virgil paled. “If you two want to sneak off for some alone time, I won’t be the one to report you, but try to be a little less suspicious about it. You know we’re not really supposed to have lovers on the staff, especially not ones you recruit. Get him properly trained, will you? And if you’re just sneaking him in to mess around, get him out.” 

“What?!” Roman said, strangled, face flushing red. Virgil felt himself blushing as well, but choked down the loud denials he wanted to make. “We’re not--”

“Roman,” Virgil hissed, pressing closer and grabbing his good arm. “Shut up.” 

Roman shut up. He was a solid line of warmth against Virgil’s side, and the stark contrast of warm touch to his current condition made him realize how battered and tired his body was at the moment. 

“Thank you. We’ll keep that in mind,” Virgil said carefully, ignoring his sudden and familiar urge to lie down and sleep right where he was. “I wasn’t aware of that policy. We’ll be… discreet.” 

“I don’t need all the details. Not my funeral,” she shrugged. She dropped her basket of laundry among the pile with a _thump_. “Also, if you have injuries, you should really get them checked out. You shouldn’t be working on a bad arm. Bye.” 

“I-- okay,” Virgil stuttered. 

She turned the corner, making her way down the hall. Virgil waited for a full ten seconds after she was out of sight to relax a little, stepping back and leaning a little against the wall. 

“What was that?!” Roman hissed, turning to Virgil, face still red. 

Virgil snuck a glance up at him, really wishing he could cross his arms. Roman looking down at him with that strange flustered expression was making him even more embarrassed, but he refused to feel self-conscious. He didn’t do anything weird. 

“What was what?” he said instead. “You mean me _preserving our cover?_ Not like you were doing the best job of it, Princey.” 

Roman bit down on his lip for a second, that strange expression on his face slipping away. He didn’t have any witty comeback like Virgil might have expected, instead, he just nodded. 

“Yeah. You’re right. Let’s go, we don’t have much time.” 

Roman led them down the hallway to a flight of steps. 

“Look,” he whispered, pointing. “That’s it.” 

Through the window and a floor below them was an open courtyard in the center of the castle. It was ringed by balconies and the rest of the castle itself. Inside, in the middle of the courtyard, was a large ornate door. Virgil squinted. He could only see one entrance to the courtyard, on the far side from where they were. It had a metal portcullis that looked as if it could be lowered but was open at the moment. 

“There’s only one way to enter, but we can just sneak around,” Roman explained. “It’s so that it’s harder to enter and you can see whoever is trying to get in. If we run, I’m sure we’ll be fine.” 

They slunk through the corridors of the castle, trying their best to walk purposefully and look like they knew what they were doing. It worked for the most part: they weren’t stopped in the hallways again. They only encountered trouble when they had to exit the hallway. 

To enter the courtyard where the door was, they would have to walk down an open road visible from all the castle’s surrounding windows as well as the people walking down it. They didn’t really have a choice, though. Virgil chewed on his lip anxiously, trying to quell his panic. He wasn’t sure if it would summon something to him, which wasn’t really helping with the nervousness, if he was being honest. 

“We’ll just have to go for it. It’s worked this far,” Roman said decisively. “Let’s walk. Follow my lead.” 

They moved out of the doorway and began to cross the path, walking quickly towards the gate. Just as they did so, what looked to be a nobleman and a procession of soldiers turned the far street and began walking down the road a little far down from the two of them. Virgil increased his pace, trying to reach the gate as soon as possible. 

“Hey! Wait!” the man called, voice echoing over stone. Virgil glanced back. Even far away, he could tell that one of the shadows was behind him. He gasped, despite himself. 

It had no eyes, but he could feel it looking at him. As he looked back, more of the shadow seemed to slink out from behind the soldiers trailing the man, forming a dark mass of enemies. 

“Roman,” he hissed. “Run.” 

They broke off in a sprint down the path. Virgil knew Roman’s damaged foot had to be hurting something fierce with the pace he set, but just from looking at him you wouldn’t know it. 

They ducked into the courtyard, skidding to a stop next to the portcullis. 

“Close the gate! Close the gate!” Roman shouted, frantic. 

“HOW?!” Virgil shrieked back. 

“There’s a weight system, with a chain on your side! We both have to pull in for it to work!” 

“O-okay!” Virgil shouted, grabbing hold of the chain. On the other side of the gate, Roman grabbed hold of a lever and started to push it in a circular motion. Virgil used all of his weight to try and drag the chain down, holding it with both hands and dragging his whole body down instead of pulling with his injured arms. 

Slowly, the gate started to lower. The spiked tips of the fence of the portcullis began to descend, steadily, but not fast enough. Virgil could see an army of those things approaching, and the loud ringing of the warning bell was grating his ears. 

One of the shadow monsters broke away from the pack at a dead sprint. Virgil poured all of his panic into lowering the gate. It was just passing halfway down as the monster slid under, hurtling towards him. His good hand released the chain, and he saw the gate jerk back up a little as he dropped its weight. 

They looked even more strange up close. He let out a little scream, slashing widely with his knife. It caught on the strange creature’s chest, tearing through its upper body. It felt bizarre: the knife caught and sank through its mass, but it moved much faster and easier than it would through actual flesh. 

With a broken cry, the monster fell back, its shadowy body coming apart and dissipating in the air. It almost seemed to slink away, back into the shadows on the ground, but Virgil didn’t stop to think about it. He just grabbed the chain once more and pulled with all of his might. 

The door of the portcullis hit the ground with a decisive thud. It was the most beautiful sound Virgil had ever heard. Those creatures were gathering on the other side, moving to pound on the doorway, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. They were safe. 

He blinked back tears. They had finally made it. 

Roman and him sought each other out without discussion, meeting in the middle. He wasn’t sure who fell into who, but both their faces were slack with relief, giddiness taking hold. Roman was smiling, tired and drawn but so ready for this nightmare to be over. 

They half-walked, half-ran across the courtyard, clutching each other for support. He could feel himself grinning as they approached the gate. It was huge and elaborate, framed in ornate twisting golden patterns like those on Roman’s shoulder insignia. In any other situation, he might have paused to take a better look, but now all he wanted to do was finally leave. 

The door itself was a rich, dark brow, a golden doorknob etched with the insignia of a sun. Roman fell forward, grasping for it, hands almost brushing-- 

Then something was twining around Virgil’s leg, tightening fast and ripping his feet out from under him. Roman’s arm was ripped out of his hands, grip on fabric coming free. 

His skull slammed into the harsh ground for a second time and he almost blacked out, vision failing, nails scrabbling on the dirt as he was pulled backwards. He choked on a breath, just enough to let out a strangled, “ _Roman!_ ” 

Roman whipped back around, eyes wide in alarm and face pale. He lunged at Virgil, trying to grab hold and pull him back, but narrowly missed. He growled, lunging forward again as whatever was holding Virgil started to hoist him up and into the air. Virgil’s breaths started to come in pants; he wasn’t a fan of heights and they both knew why. 

“Roman!” Virgil screamed again, the sound ripping out of his throat. He was past the point of feeling shame in asking for help; all that was left was pure terror and adrenaline. “Roman! _Help!_ ”

“I’m here, I’m here, just hold on,” Roman gasped. He reached out, grasping for Virgil’s hand, nearly crying in frustration when it remained out of reach. “Come on, we’re so close--” 

The floor was dropping away as Virgil rose higher and higher, Roman shrinking in his sight. He started to reach about twenty feet high-- 

And then Virgil stopped, hanging suspended midair from a… tentacle. _Remus._ He struggled, flailing, breaths coming faster as his bonds tightened. He was hoisted up, lifted to the level of one of the balconies lining the courtyard. This one was especially large and ornate, and Virgil wouldn’t have been surprised if it were some form of royal balcony. 

“Roman?! What’s happening?” he gasped. His fear only compounded as he stared down at the courtyard tens of feet below, only the thin bounds around his chest and limbs holding him aloft. Torn between struggling to free himself and frozen in fear, he waited, half-hyperventilating and on edge. 

“I-- I don’t know,” Roman panicked, glancing around. At least Virgil wasn’t being dragged away any more, but whatever reason there was for that small mercy probably wasn’t good either. 

A low chuckle reverberated through the courtyard. 

A figure-- the figure, Remus, it had to be-- stepped out above Roman, level with Virgil as he was on the balcony, clapping slowly. 

“Well isn’t this just adorable,” he mocked, curling his lip derisively. Or at least Virgil thought he was, from the sliver of his mouth he could see. But it was all wrong, Virgil suddenly realized. 

He couldn’t lie to himself anymore. It wasn’t him. He was reminiscent of Remus, sure, but the differences in their behavior were becoming too large to ignore. 

“What the hell? I bought it this long, but you’re not Remus, you can’t be! Who are you?” Virgil demanded, struggles renewing against his bonds. He wanted to get away from this weird stranger as soon as possible. 

Below him, Roman grit his teeth and stepped forward, drawing his katana.

“I know who it is,” he said darkly. His voice was soft, but in the almost-silence it carried and echoed all around the courtyard. 

Virgil looked down, wide-eyed. “You do? Then who is it? I’d appreciate being in on whatever the hell is going on!”

Roman scowled, knuckles whitening on the hilt of his sword. 

“It’s him.” 

The figure smirked, drawing back their hood. It fell around their neck, revealing their face as they stared imperiously down at Roman. He grinned wolfishly. 

“It’s the King.” 

Virgil gaped in stunned surprise. The King? He meant-- back when Roman and Remus were one person, before they got split by Morality? That King? 

And it did make sense, in a way. Virgil almost would have mistaken him for Roman at first glance, but it was the little inconsistencies that made him feel off. His expression, for starters. It was too maniacal for Roman, but altogether too cold and calculating to be Remus. And the facial hair. He had a little mustache, trimmed short and in two straight pieces above his mouth, as well as a small, clipped goatee. It was some strange, fun-house mirror version of the two of them. 

Strapped to one side of his hip was a ornate golden saber and in his hand he was gripping the handle of a wicked-looking flail, chain and spiked ball nearly trailing on the ground. Virgil eyed the spiked edges of the metal ball warily. That was certainly an unfortunate combination of Roman and Remus’ weaponry. To top it off, a full, ornate crown rested on his brow. Virgil scowled at it. He didn’t care if that was the real “King”. He would swear his loyalty to Roman instead in a heartbeat.

It made sense that he was the King, sure. But also it made absolutely no sense. Roman was here, not part of-- whoever this guy was. So who was he? Another one of those shadow monsters? Or something else? 

Virgil’s thoughts were interrupted as green tentacles slithered out from the man’s back and around the courtyard, many of which were wrapped around Virgil himself. That particular trait of Remus’ he also could have done without. 

“Very clever,” The man simpered. Though his eyes were on Roman, he was drawing closer to Virgil with each step. Virgil eyed him with trepidation, leaning as far back in his bonds as they allowed. 

The King came to stop in front of Virgil, tilting his head slightly to the side as he inspected him. Virgil glared down at him and his stupid facial hair. 

“So this is the one, hmm?” he mused, deep in thought. He didn’t really seem like he was addressing Virgil. It was more like he was speaking to himself. “He doesn’t look like much. I wonder what he sees in you.” 

“W-what?” Virgil choked out, confused. The limbs drew him closer and closer until he was suspended directly in front of the King, eyes staring straight into his. He was tall, slightly taller than Roman even, and with Virgil suspended a bit off the ground they were almost the exact same height. 

From a distance, his eyes appeared the same color as Thomas’, but up close he could see one eye was ringed with a reddish color around the pupil and the other with green. It provided a disconcerting contrast, throwing his features into even starker relief to Roman’s. He took a moment to study Virgil, mismatched gaze scrutinizing the little details of his appearance. 

“Hello? What are you doing?” Roman called curiously up from the courtyard. “I’m down here, you know! Prince Roman?” 

He made no sign he heard Roman at all, nodding vaguely to himself. Virgil’s brow creased in confusion. 

Unnerved, Virgil started to make a bad joke. “Hey, I get it, my eyeshadow is cool and all but--” 

Then the King drew his steel-toed boot back and slammed it straight into Virgil’s ribs. All the breath left his lungs in a rush and he gasped, narrowly avoiding crying out in pain. The knockback from the blow made the bonds around his arms pull uncomfortably and his shoulder was throbbing in renewed agony. His head spun, body creaking out in hot-cold flashes of prickling pain. Gritting his teeth and setting his jaw, he glared straight back, baring his teeth. 

“Wait! Stop, what are you doing?!” he heard Roman’s voice in the background, echoing up. 

The King smiled. It was far too close to one of Remus’ grins. He didn’t look away from Virgil.

“Hm. Maybe I do see a little bit of it now-- that fire. How about…” 

He drew back his fist and smashed it into Virgil’s jaw, snapping his head to the side. WIthout pause, he drew back his fist and hit again and again, across Virgil’s cheekbone and landed a punishing blow on Virgil’s nose, which made a foreboding crunch. 

He felt blood splatter down his chin, dripping down his lips. Probably broken then. He was too stunned to even reply, hanging limply where he was suspended. What the hell was happening? 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see more and more of the shadow creatures were swarming by the entrance. The pounding at the door was growing louder, beating in time with his rushing heartbeat in his ears. 

“Stop! Stop!” Roman shouted, far past the point of playing it cool. “You’ve proved your point. What do you want!? Virgil has nothing to do with this! I demand you unhand him at once!” 

The King shrugged, head slowly turning to look down at Roman once more. He looked like a predator sighting his prey. “Hmm, that’s not quite right though, is it,” he said cryptically. “He has everything to do with this.” 

“What do you _want,_ ” Roman repeated, voice shaky but hand steady on his sword. It must have pulled at his injuries fiercely, but he showed no outward signs of pain. He was shaky with fear, yes, but Virgil noted the harsh set of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders and realized he was also trembling with _rage_. 

“What do I want…” The King drawled consideringly, leaning back to tap his chin with one finger. “I want a lot of things. I know you must relate. But what I want with you and Beau Peep here... is a little honesty. A little demonstration of your true nature, if you will.”

Even from this high up, Virgil could see Roman’s eyes dart around nervously. He licked his lips, adjusting his stance. “I-” 

“You always wanted to know, right? Who you were, deep down? Who you were _before?_ ” The King spread his arms grandly. “Well here I am. Ta-da!” 

“You’re not him,” Roman denied, shaking his head roughly back and forth. “You’re-- you’re not. You’re not real, you can’t be. We weren’t-- I wasn’t like this. I wouldn’t hurt--” 

“Now we _both_ know that last bit isn’t true,” he chastised, eyes glimmering in amusement. “And how would you know, _Prince_ Roman? It’s not like you were around to meet me, after all. I’m being quite honest, this is exactly who I am. This is who you are. This is what you’ve _done._ If illustrated a little more clearly, of course.”

With a quick twist flick of his wrist, the restraints around Virgil tightened even more. All the air was being squeezed out of his ribs and it _hurt,_ the bones in his wrists and ankles audibly creaking as they were ground together. A tendril curled possessively around Virgil’s neck and he winced, looking stubbornly away from the King’s smug face. 

He met Roman’s eyes and finally found his voice upon seeing the uncertainty there. 

“Don’t listen to him Roman! You’re better than that!” he urged. 

The King frowned darkly. “That’s enough out of you, I think,” he said, the limb around his neck wrapping up to cover his mouth. The blood drained out of Virgil’s face as breathing became much harder, and he renewed his struggles, throwing himself against his bonds once more.

“Unhand him now, you fiend,” Roman growled, white-hot anger burning fierce in his expression. “I don’t care who you are. Come down here and fight me fair, like a real King! Have you no honor?! I’ll wipe the floor with you for what you did to Virgil!” 

“We’ll see about that,” The King sneered. “Sure, why not. A little one-on-one duel sounds fun. I’d like to see you try and stop me.” 

He stood casually, tentacles slithering away from his to wrap around the edges of the balcony and make their way down to the courtyard below. He easily lifted himself from the balcony, descending with the aid of his extra limbs. He touched down gracefully on stone, barely ten feet from Roman. 

Roman seemed a little less tense with the King away from Virgil, but he was no less on guard. His face was a mask of concentration, now, falling even more into a fencing stance. The King reciprocated, keeping his knees bent and flail at the ready. 

They circled one another for a long moment, neither making the first move, before the King lunged. He swung his flail with deadly accuracy and Virgil froze in fear for a long moment, but Roman neatly stepped out of the way, lunging forward with his katana. The King swung again, forcing Roman to draw back. Roman swung for him one again, but this time the King changed strategies: he aimed for Roman’s blade, not his body, the thick chain of his weapon wrapping around the blade of Roman’s sword. 

He jerked his weapons towards his hands, and Roman, off balance, stumbled forward as the King drew his saber with his other hand. Just in time, he was able to slide his katana out of the King’s hold and take a few steps back to disengage. 

Virgil’s relief was tempered by his worry; Roman was doing alright now, but he was pale and exhausted looking even from tens of feet away. He wasn’t going to last. Painstakingly, Virgil was trying to reach for the dagger on his belt, but both of his wrists were being held tight and it was slow going to try and loosen them. 

“I know you’re terrified, Roman. Terrified of who and what you are. Terrified of not being good enough, terrified of failure. Especially terrified of your potential to hurt the ones you love,” the King sneered. 

Roman’s face fell for a split-second before hardening again, eyes flashing. He didn’t reply. 

“Oh, you don’t want to play anymore? That’s no fun.” 

“This isn’t a game,” Roman said between grit teeth. 

“Isn’t it? I don’t see you stopping me? Who says I don’t let little Virgil here drop-- right down to his death.” Teasingly, he loosened the restraints around Virgil for a moment, not even bothering to turn around. Virgil shrieked for a second as he dropped a few inches through the air, barely managing in his shock to grasp the handle of his knife. 

“Don’t!” Roman shouted. “You said-- one on one sounded fun. Don’t bring him into this now.” 

“Fine, fine. No need to get your panties in a bunch, I’m just messing around.” 

They lunged back into combat, but Virgil was focusing on something else now. His wrists had been recaptured, held fast into the air, but now he had his dagger. The angle was incredibly awkward, but he could touch the serrated edge to the surface of the tentacle. Slowly, he started to saw back and forth. This might take a while. 

Nervous, he glanced at the entrance to the courtyard. There was a throng of enemies there as well, pounding on the door incessantly, and the metal of the portcullis was starting to bow under the pressure. He wasn’t sure how long they had, now. He sped up his wrist, sweat beading on his brow. 

Down below, Roman and the King were fighting harder than ever. They had stopped their long, considering pauses and dialogue now, just throwing themselves at each other with a savanage intensity. Roman clipped the King, nicking his arm, but then the King struck back with a nasty blow from his flail, pinpricks of red spreading on Roman’s white shirt. It was impressive how Roman was keeping up, injured as he was, but even Virgil could see the King clearly had the upper hand and was just messing around with him now, drawing out the inevitable. 

At his best, they could have even been a fair match. 

But Roman was heavily injured at the moment and his fighting was far from his best. 

The King’s flail wrapped around Roman’s sword again, but this time it held fast, the chain catching on the hilt. With a manic grin, the King ripped his hand back and the sword was pulled straight from Roman’s grip and was sent skidding across the cobblestone of the courtyard. 

He grabbed for it desperately, but it was out of his reach. The King stomped down on Roman’s arm with one boot-clad foot, pinning his wrist to the ground. He leveled his saber with Roman’s throat, who visibly swallowed, eyes wide with fear. 

And with a decisive slash, Virgil cut through the tentacles holding him aloft. 

He hit the ground hard, painful shock vibrating through his legs. His knees were shaky, but his white-knuckled grip on his dagger was strong. 

“ **Stay _away_ from him!**” he screamed, lunging forward. 

The King spun, meeting his blade with his saber. Metal slid across metal as Virgil brought his knife down and threw himself forward, heedless of his safety, trying to sink his blade into his chest. Pure terror drove him speed. 

The King caught his wrist in a bruising grip, sneer widening. Virgil panted, eyes wide, lips drawn back in a snarl. He tried to kick a leg out to knock the King over, but he just sidestepped, leaving Virgil unbalanced. 

“You should leave the fighting to the knights,” the King said, amused. 

“And you should leave Roman _alone,_ ” Virgil growled. “Before I kill you.” 

“You can certainly try.” 

The King twisted his wrist until he could no longer hold onto the knife; then he flung the off-balanced Virgil backward with a neat kick to his legs. 

He fell back, hitting the stone ground again. He was getting tired of that. He raised an arm in vain, a last ditch effort to protect himself, as the King raised his arm to strike. 

Then Roman was standing between them, head held high, leveling his sword at the King. Virgil gaped up at him. 

“You’re not real,” Roman said firmly. This time, the words seemed to have weight, ring clear; reverberating around the courtyard. The King paused as if encountering resistance but shook it off with a frown, opening his mouth to speak again. 

“You’re not me,” Roman continued, confidence growing with every step forward. “I swore I’d never hurt Virgil like that again, and I certainly won’t let you, either.” 

The statement had a physical impact; the hair flew up around the King’s face and he was pushed back a step, eyes wide in alarm. He stumbled and fell back, landing harshly on an elbow. He lunged for his saber but Roman kicked it away, turning the tables, leveling his blade at his throat. 

“It’s over,” Roman said, face impassive. “I win.” Virgil gaped up at his resolute expression, awestruck. 

The King leaned back on his arms, chin tilted up to stare at Roman. His expression was still uncomprehending.

When he spoke, it was almost too quiet to hear. “I guess so.” 

Then Roman plunged the tip of the blade deep into the King’s chest, face screwed up in a snarl. Virgil saw the beginnings of tears glimmering on his eyelashes. 

The King’s breath caught in his throat, mouth slightly parted and expression strangely vulnerable. One hand reached up, achingly slow, to clutch at his chest where his shirt was steadily being stained red. Unfocused eyes darted up to fix on Roman once more. 

“Good… fight,” he coughed wetly, the edge of a smile teasing his lips. “It was… fun.” 

And then he was gone, broken body dissolving, hazy, like a mirage, before splintering into nothing. His shadow seemed to diffuse into the cracks of the ground, dark mass where he once was spreading until it was too indistinct to tell where he had once been. There was no blood. Just… emptiness. 

Roman stared at the spot on the ground where the King had lain vacantly. Virgil half-expected him to show up again. It was odd to have him just be… gone. But they still had other things to worry about. 

Painstakingly, Virgil pushed himself off of the ground. He dug the tip of his dagger in between cobblestones just to lever himself off the floor, pitching forward unsteadily. His ribs were screaming at him and he’d definitely reopened some wounds, but the only thing on his mind was Roman. 

He settled a comforting hand on Roman’s shoulder as more monsters lined the edges of the courtyard. They seemed restless at the death of the King, edging closer. 

“You did it, Roman. You beat him,” he said hoarsely. Roman came out of his stupor, blinking before looking at him once more. Virgil didn’t want to know what his expression looked like-- he was trying for comforting but it just felt sad. 

“Not in time, I fear,” Roman replied bitterly, cupping Virgil’s face. “We have more enemies to fight yet and I don’t think we’re in any condition to do so.” 

“Then we go down fighting,” Virgil said grimly. “Come on, Roman. We’re not gonna let this get the best of us. No one dies.” 

Virgil’s mouth was set and his dark eyes filled with resolve as he held Roman’s gaze, blood and dirt and eyeshadow alike streaked across his battered face. But he wasn’t backing down. 

Roman nodded, clasping Virgil’s hand to pull Virgil up. He grinned crookedly, cocking his head. 

“Ready whenever you are, Emo Nightmare.” 

“Tough talk from Sir-Sings-A-Lot.” 

Virgil couldn’t tell if they or the monsters lunged first but either way they flew into combat. He poured all of his resolve into his strikes, tearing through their enemies, but there were too many. For each one he cut down, two more seemed to take their place. Eventually, he was forced back and overrun. 

He hit the ground again, losing his grip on his dagger. Beside him, Roman swept out with his sword, clearing the monsters around them with a yell. He dropped to his knees next to Virgil, reaching down to cup his cheek. 

“Are you alright?!” he said, worried face hovering right above Virgil’s. There was some strange feeling swelling in Virgil’s chest, filling his lungs and making his heart threaten to burst. Whatever had been growing inside of him finally felt like it was coming to the surface as he stared up at Roman, closer together now then they had been since this fight started. 

Virgil responded by grabbing the sides of Roman’s face and pulling him down into a desperate kiss. He did little more than press their lips together, holding onto Roman for dear life, but Roman soon came out of his stupor and began to kiss back with a fervor that belied their current situation. His hands, gripping Virgil’s face firmly now, held a gentleness too tender to occur under such a panicked situation. But still he held on. 

Virgil nearly choked on a sob, but withheld it, taking the moment to deepen their embrace and not think of anything else. 

And then they were ripped apart as their enemies were upon them. Roman’s face, relaxed in surprise with lips still parted, was the last thing Virgil saw before he was pulled down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: non-con restraint/touching and (nothing sexual), violence/mild blood, swearing
> 
> I think that's it? Lmk if I missed something. 
> 
> Anyway all I can say about this chapter is that IT'S MY FANFIC AND I GET TO CHOOSE THE COPIOUS DISCUSSION OF MCR lmaoo. Actually that's not all I'm going to say lol. This chapter was huge and a long time in the making! This chapter was a lot of the reason I wanted to write this in the first place, as well as some scenes from the next chapter. You can thank my friend Giac for the scene where Virgil takes the watch as well as the kiss scene in this chapter cuz they told me to add them here. They're the only one keeping me from endlessly teasing their relationship haha. It would have come eventually but I like it better this way! Big revelations/an explanation for all the shit going down will also be coming next chapter so be ready for that. 
> 
> Leave a comment if you feel up to it, they're very encouraging! I hope you liked this chapter and I'll see you at the next one!


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